Operation Eclipse
by Rodsantos
Summary: One month after the Avatar's return, a strange visitor arrives at Kyoshi Island. He is an American paratrooper, Colonel Harry Bedford, a veteran of the Second World War and a leader of a force stranded in an alien world. To get home, the soldiers, sailors, and airmen of the newly-formed Allied Expeditionary Unit must bring down the Fire Nation and end a brutal century-long conflict
1. First Contact

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Claiming to do so would open me up to litigation.**

 **Note: I don't claim to be a history expert** **, far from it. I also never have served in the armed forces, so all the information I use in this work is secondhand. If I've made any kind of mistake that you see, please notify me by comment or private message, and I'll see what I can do to rectify the matter.**

* * *

 _0837 Hours, Grid Square 16WVC324521_

 _Six miles northwest of Kyoshi Island_

The destroyer USS _Langley_ slid southeast through the waves at twenty knots, making for the hilly island that had appeared on the horizon just a little more than a quarter of an hour before and was slowly growing larger through the windows of the bridge. Two men stood in the bridge. Both of them had binoculars to their eyes.

"You sure this place has people, Colonel?" asked the destroyer's commander, Captain Peter Henning. He was a lanky man with straw-blond hair and sharp features, dressed in the dark blue of a US Navy officer. "Beach looks deserted. Don't see any fishing boats docked in the bay."

"No people on this side of the island, maybe," replied his companion. He was shorter, though not much stockier than the captain, in an olive-green field uniform rather than naval livery. "But the island is inhabited." He pointed through the bridge window, gesturing at the island's highest point, a peak of about a thousand feet over the ground. "Look, there, on top that hill. There's a position up there. Someone's dug in on that hilltop. They've put some logs and leaves over the place to help it blend in, but if you look hard and squint, you can just see the top of some kind of structure, probably an outpost."

"Damn," muttered the captain, adjusting his binoculars. The outpost atop the hill was visible, barely, but he could still make out what looked to be a wooden support beam propping up a log roof through the foliage. "How'd you spot it?"

The colonel put away his binoculars before replying. "The highest point is an obvious place to put a lookout post, Captain. A good vantage point, but obvious. If that was an enemy emplacement, we could've taken it out with your five-inchers, am I right?"

"It's well within range, Colonel." The naval officer smiled, still surveying the hilltop. "You know, my men are just itching for some gunnery practice..."

"Ours is supposed to be a peaceful mission," the colonel replied. "Speaking of which, I should really start to prepare. Nice talking with you, Captain."

* * *

 _Toshi Hill, Kyoshi Island_

The outpost atop the highest hill on Kyoshi Island had only been completely restored ten days ago. For three hundred and seventy years, ever since the island's founding, it had stood there, manned by the watchful Kyoshi Warriors, to warn its people of impending attack. It had helped the islanders fend off everything from vengeful sea spirits to pirate raids.

However, in the last ninety years, it had been neglected. The island had declared neutrality in the War, and the Fire Nation had never wanted it. The island had no strategic position or any kind of natural resource in abundance. As for the other threats, the vengeful spirits had been driven off by Avatar Roku a century and a half ago, while even the most desperate of pirates had realized that Kyoshi was never really worth it, anyway.

So, the outpost had remained abandoned for almost a century. Several generations of Kyoshi Warrior commanders never used it, preferring foot patrols in the lower hills and northern forest to secure that side of the island, where the warriors could return to their villages at night and wouldn't have to pack much more than a few bites of lunch to go along with their regular gear, while using the outpost meant having to constantly supply four-person teams for two days up on Toshi Hill.

It was the recent Fire Nation incursion that changed the Kyoshi Warriors' minds. Six firebenders, including the exiled Crown Prince Zuko, had stormed the island in search of the Avatar. In the ensuing fight they had almost burned down Keum Village, the island's main settlement, which was only saved through Aang's timely intervention. The war which had left Kyoshi alone could now reach its shores.

The artisans and builders of the island had worked day and night to restore the outpost to its former glory, and it was well made. Dug partway into the crest of the hill, it was a sturdy structure, made of sturdy wooden beams anchored to the earth. Nothing but the strongest storm could destroy it, and it was well hidden. It could support a team of seven warriors, and its position gave it a good vantage point to see for miles to the north, the most likely point of attack.

Suki sat inside the outpost, gazing through a viewing slit to look at the deep blue ocean, laid out for miles and miles as far as the eye could see. It was a great view, and on a clear day, such as this morning, she could see the tip of the Earth Kingdom peninsula in the distance. She had already been up for the three hours since sunrise.

The auburn-haired commander Kyoshi Warrior commanders signed and stretched, working out a kink that had developed in her neck. Of course, outpost duty was important. Kyoshi was now at war, and there was no telling if or when the Fire Nation might return. They needed to be prepared. They had been taken by surprise once, and Keum Village had suffered from it.

Suki stood up, stretching out the cramp in her legs. The job was important, but it sure was dull. One of the warriors had the foresight to stock the post with books and playing cards, but those wouldn't do much to alleviate the feeling of being cooped-up. Suki much preferred training than being stuck inside with a book. Even walking foot patrols gave her the chance to move around and breathe in the fresh air.

"It'll be good to get out of here," she said. "It does get boring, once you get tired of the view."

The warrior who sat to her right grunted in agreement. Her name was Akiko, seven years older than Suki, making her the oldest warrior on the island. She was tall, with broad shoulders and jet-black hair beneath the headdress. "I think I need some training after this. Get the blood pumping."

"Good idea. Let's meet at the dojo in Keum an hour before sundown later," Suki replied. "We should work on our swords. With this war, I have a feeling we'll be needing them more than in the past. Koharu should be here in a few hours with her relief team, then we can go down."

Suki turned back to the viewing slit for another look of the deep, empty sea, then stopped. There was a large object headed their way. She ran for the telescope mounted to her right and brought it around to focus on it.

It was a ship. Gray, larger than the Fire Nation ship which had showed up two weeks ago. It was long, about four hundred feet, with strange large characters painted in white low on the front port side. Exhaust came from the smokestack located behind the bridge, though not the thick black coal smoke of a typical Fire Nation ship. The flag flying from the mainmast was unfamiliar, a striped blue, red, and white design with stars on the top left corner. There was no doubt. It was headed right for Kyoshi.

Suki turned away from the telescope. "There's an unidentified ship coming to us! Akiko, Tsuya! Ring the danger gong and light the torches. Rena, come with me. We have to get to Keum and tell them what's out there."

The other three warriors snapped to action. Akiko and Tsuya, who had started a hand of cards, jumped to their feet and ran for the brass gong hanging outside. The last one, who had been sitting in the corner reading, dropped her book with a clatter and stumbled towards Suki.

The commander caught her as she tripped. "Careful, Rena. Come on, let's go!"

As they sprinted out of the outpost, neither of them noticed the white wake ripping through the water towards the ship.

* * *

 _USS_ Langley, _three miles northwest of Kyoshi Island_

A voice crackled through the intercom of the bridge. "Conn, sonar."

Captain Henning picked up the interphone. "Conn, aye."

"We have a sonar contact, bearing one-zero-five , distance, one-three-zero-zero yards. Probable large marine animal. Designate contact Alpha One."

Henning thought for a moment. A sea animal. It was large enough to be detected on sonar. In Henning's experience, that meant the animal was a whale or a large shark. But all that experience has been learned in another world, with different marine life."

" Sonar, conn. What direction is Alpha One headed?"

The sonarman took a second before replying. "It's headed right for us. Speed, fifteen knots. Distance, eight-zero-zero yards.

"That's no whale," Henning muttered to himself. He reached over and punched the button for the alarm. The electrically-powered bell blared throughout the ship. "General quarters! General quarters! This is not a drill. All men, battlestations!"

Off to the port side, just over half a mile away, the _unagi_ burst up from the sea with a deafening shriek.


	2. The Bay and the Beach

_USS_ Langley

 _One mile north of Kyoshi Island_

Colonel Harry Bedford was preparing.

As soon as he had left the _Langley_ 's bridge after his conversation with Captain Henning, he had gone down to the deck of the destroyer to begin loading his equipment into the small wooden motorboat he would soon be using.

First in was his radio, a heavy, bulky unit designated the Type 13. Though complicated and a bit unwieldy, it could communicate with friendlies on air, sea, and land up to thirty miles away. Next was a canvas bag, loaded with canned rations, plus two canteens of fresh water. Now for the last part: weaponry.

Colonel Bedford lifted his weapon, bracing its stock against his bent knee. His gun was large and heavy, almost four feet long and nineteen pounds in weight. Though meticulously cleaned and serviced, it didn't have the shine of a new weapon. Its wooden stock was scarred and the dull gray metal scratched in places. It was a weapon that had proved itself in war.

Bedford slid a twenty-round magazine into his Browning Automatic Rifle with practiced ease, pulled back the bolt to chamber it, flipped the selector lever to safety, and placed it gently onto the bottom of the boat. Six more magazines went into his webbing belt, ready for a quick reload if needed.

Final checks. Bedford looked through his gear, checking if he had forgotten anything, then tapped his utility belt. His .45 handgun was there, as always, in its holster on his right hip, and his combat knife in its sheath on the opposite side.

Three people were watching him make his preparations. One was a seaman, the other two were soldiers like Bedford.

"Good luck out there," said the older of the two soldiers to Bedford.

"Break a leg, Colonel," greeted the other, a cheeky grin stretched across his face. "Try not to end up dead."

Harry Bedford climbed into the motorboat, just as he placed his green steel helmet into his head. "See you soon."

He nodded to the sailor, who began lowering his motorboat towards the water with a pulley.

When the boat touched the sea, Bedford kick-started the engine, waved once more towards the deck of the ship above, then turned towards the northern beach of Kyoshi Island.

He was a quarter of a mile away from the _Langley_ when the alarms began to blare.

* * *

 _Keum Village, K_ _yoshi Island_

The tremendous crashing of the danger gong atop Toshi Hill had an almost instantaneous reaction down in the island's main settlement. Seven warriors spilled out of the dojo at the south end of the village, fanning out, swords drawn and shields at the ready. One looked up to the crest of the hill to their northwest. A single torch, from the row of ten lined up beside the outpost, was lit.

Oyaji, the middle-aged head of Keum Village and chairman of the Kyoshi Island Council, burst out of his hut at the sound ans skidded to a halt beside the warriors.

"What is it, Koharu? It can't be another drill, can it?"

"No," replied a small, brown-haired warrior. "A torch is lit."

Two figures in green came into view down the single path through town, sprinting towards them. A few moments later and they were alongside.

Suki was slightly flushed, but otherwise unaffected by her long run. The other warrior, Rena, had her hands on her knees, coughing.

"One ship, Suki?" Koharu asked. "I thought the Fire Nation would bring more than what they had last time."

"It's much bigger than the one that came before," the commander replied. " It must be some kind of new weapon. It barely looks like a ship. It's huge!"

Rena had recovered her breath. She looked up at Suki, her eyes wide. "What do we do?"

Suki put her hand on the newer warrior's shoulder. "Stay calm. Remember your training. We took them once. We'll take them again, and this time, we have more help." She gestured around her. More warriors from the island's interior were pouring into Keum Village, having heard the call of the gong.

* * *

 _USS_ Langley

 _One mile north of Kyoshi Island_

It looked like an eel. A giant eel, black, two hundred feet long with yellow stripes near the head and a red dorsal fin sticking from the top. Its green eyes were focused on the _Langley_ , its massive red mouth wide open, showing massive, yellowing fangs.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck _is_ that?" yelled the first officer, who was currently manning the helm.

The _unagi_ reared its head back. From its gaping maw came a huge, high-pressured stream of seawater.

The ship rocked side to side from the impact of the water. Down below on deck, there were yells of alarm as men skidded and slipped on the sodden metal, crashing into gun turrets, lifeboats, and and railings.

Henning looked to port again. The monster had gone below the surface again. A wake was beating down on his ship, almost as fast as a torpedo but much larger. The eel was closing for a better shot. Its first blast hadn't caused much damage, as far as he could tell, but another, from a shorter distance, could hit something critical.

"Corwin!" Henning yelled at the first officer. "Riight full rudder! Come new course one-nine-five!"

The first officer followed the orders quickly. The _Langley_ heeled violently to starboard, opening up the ship's angle to the _unagi_ and bringing its full broadside towards the monster.

When the ship has completed the turn, the wake was only a hundred yards away and still closing fast. Too fast and too close for the ship's main armament, six five-inch naval guns, to engage properly.

Henning snatched up the interphone. "Anti-aircraft! Neutralize the target!"

The _unagi_ surfaced again, coiling up from the surface to tower over the destroyer from fifty yards away. Its great mouth opened again, hissing, its eyes glaring right at the bridge as it prepared another blast of water, this time right at Henning.

The destroyer had twenty-three anti-aircraft guns. Ten were pointed at the eel at that moment, four forty-millimeter and six twenty-millimeter autocannons. They fired at almost the same time.

High-explosive shells impacted the creature, detonating on impact. They were designed to take down aircraft, and the exposed flesh of the _unagi_ was no match. It was, quite simply, blown apart. Bits of it were thrown everywhere, splattering the destroyer and the sea around it with black blood and entrails.

"Damage control, report!" Henning commanded, five minutes after the shooting.

"No real damage, sir. The water jet threw some equipment crates around and displaced some lifeboats, but we're putting them back in order as we speak."

"Casualties?"

"Two men knocked out from the hit. They're coming to, sir. Another has a broken arm, but that's the worst of it."

* * *

 _Toshi Hill, Kyoshi Island_

Akiko and Tsuya looked at the scene unfolding in front of them with growing horror. The strange ship had looked doomed when the _unagi_ had shown up.

It had ambushed other ships before, from small fishing boats to Earth Navy troopships. All had either been sunk or barely got away. This one, though, stood its ground, turning with speed and maneuverability that looked impossible for such a large vessel, and fought back with blazing fireballs that roared through the sky and exploded on contact.

The monster was the bane of Kyoshi Island and the settlements of the Earth Kingdom's southwestern coast, had been for twenty years. It had just been gutted like a fish in the Keum Village market.

Akiko grabbed her companion's arm. "We need to tell them what's out there, Tsuya! Come with me!"

* * *

 _North Beach, Kyoshi Island_

"Everyone in the trees, and quickly!" Suki pointed to the bare treetops.

She had twenty-one warriors with her, half her force. She had left the rest with Koharu, in reserve on one of the hills surrounding the Keum Village valley.

Soon they were all out of sight, in ones and twos, flat against the bare treetops. The strange ship was still a mile away, and beside it the floating corpse of the _unagi_.

A smaller boat was in the bay, speeding towards them at a fast clip. It was the size of a rowboat, but looked like it had some kind of engine propelling it, since it rumbled and roared. It only had one passenger _._

* * *

Harry Bedford had no more doubts that he was being watched. If the appearance of his ship hadn't been warning enough, then the commotion caused by the fight with that sea monster would've certainly been.

He cut power. He was less than three hundred yards from the beach. The loud roar of the motorboat's engine was reduced to a slow rumble.

A stone's throw from the beach and he turned off the engine completely, gliding slowly towards land, before a soft bump told him that he had arrived.

Bedford jumped out, his boots splashing in the ankle-deep surf. He came to the front of the boat, and with a grunt, pulled it above the waterline, before turning back north on foot. The beach was flecked with snowfall, and white drifts covered the sand at some points.

He frowned up at the treeline to his north. It appeared to cover a pass through the screen of tall hills to his left and right. The pass looked like it cut through the hills and led to the island's interior. That meant that it was a strategically-placed position, and a natural chokepoint.

His best guess as to where the first line of defense was hidden.

Colonel Bedford walked slowly towards the trees, making sure not to make any sudden moves. His BAR and pistol were ready, but if the defenders had bows, he'd be dead.

At fifty feet from the trees, he stopped, still unable to see anyone waiting for him there. He unslung his automatic rifle, placed it on the sand, and raised both of his arms slowly, palms facing the trees.

"I come in peace," he said, in a measured tone, but loud enough to be heard fifty feet away. "I know you're there. We have no intention to fight. I just need to talk with your leader."

* * *

Suki heard him. They had been watching the man in the strangely-shaped helmet and thick long overcoat make his way up the beach, waiting for him to get close enough to the trees for them to grab him.

But he had stopped, well out of reach. All they could do right now was look at him.

He didn't look impressive. The stranger was a short man, barely taller than Akiko, and not very burly. He wasn't young, but neither was he the graying type. His hair below the helmet was still black. He was in his thirties, as best as Suki could guess.

He certainly was a soldier, probably an experienced one, too. The helmet and the strange weapon he carried betrayed that. He knew where they were hiding.

Suki signalled with a sharp gesture of her hand, and vaulted out of her tree.

* * *

The defenders were there, all right. They were raining out of the trees, landing gracefully, like experienced paratroopers.

They were women, like he had expected. Twenty-one of them, faces carefully adorned in white and red war paint, in loose green dresses. Lightweight metal armor protected their torsos and arms. Instead of helmets, they wore ornate headdresses.

Seven warriors formed ranks, sharp swords facing forward. Their shields, painted in the insignia of the Earth Kingdom, formed a wall.

They had all moved with ease and efficiency, light on their feet. Highly trained. But not a lot of experience. The seven in the wall had started at him for a moment, hesitating.

"Take him in!" a voice ordered sharply. It was a warrior to his left who talked, auburn -haired, looked like the person in charge.

The shield wall advanced. Seeing Bedford was unresisting, two lowered their shields. A cloth bag went over his head, and his hands were bound.

* * *

"Take him to Keum," Suki said. "Search his boat and bring everything in it to the village."

She bent down and picked up the strange weapon that the man had put down into the sand. It appeared to be some kind of wood and metal war club, though it was too unwieldy to be useful. up

She sheathed her katana and picked the weapon up by the wooden stock. "Sae, keep your team here. If they attack, get me immediately."

Suki followed the rest of the warriors through the pass as they dragged the man with them.

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Hope you're enjoying so far. This is my first fanfic and I apologize for any writing, grammatical, or factual mistakes I have made and will make in the future.**

 **I'm no military expert. (Though I do love Tom Clancy!) I will be using a lot of artistic licence, due to ignorance, but I will try my best to be authentic.**

 **Notes on technology and weapons:**

 **-The USS _Langley_ is an Alien M. Sumner-class destroyer. It uses the designation DD-782.**

 **-The Kyoshi Warriors are using swords and shields. Of course, they use their fans primarily, but when things get tough (as we see in S2's _Appa's Lost Days_ ,) they bring out katana and shields.**

 **Notes on characters:**

 **-The Gaang will eventually show up. They won't be as central as in the show, but they still have a big, big role to play (later).**

 **Notes on update frequency:**

 **-I'm a busy person, but I will try for at least once a week.**

 **Reviews welcome! Thanks for stopping by.**


	3. Reasons (Part One)

_Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

Bedford was tied to what felt like a thick wooden post, though he couldn't be completely sure because of the bag over his head.

There was a crowd in front of him, that he knew. General, excitable chatter, which he could pick out occasionally. Curious civilians.

"...Earth Kingdom? Look at his clothes."

"Earth Kingdom soldiers don't look like that. Or dress like that."

"...what a month! First the Avatar, then the Fire Nation, and now this man!"

"Settle down." A deeper voice, older, masculine. "We must ask him a few questions. Suki, remove the bag."

The bag came off. Bedford was momentarily blinded by the sunlight, before his eyes refocused. There was the blade of a sword being held against his throat.

"You'd better start talking, _now_." It was the same voice which gave the order to take him prisoner. Apparently, her name was Suki.

"I'm perfectly prepared to answer your questions," Bedford said. His voice was calm. "If you'd kindly put away your sword. I don't like sharp objects near my neck."

The blade didn't waver. The leader of the warriors still glared at him with deep suspicion.

"Who are you, and where are you from?" A man in late middle age with a thick white beard and blue robes stepped forward from the chattering crowd of civilians. He spoke with authority, as if used to getting a straight answer to every question.

"Okay. My name is Harry Bedford. I'm a colonel in a special military force called the Allied Expeditionary Unit."

"What did you do to the _unagi_?" Suki demanded before the man could ask a second question.

"You're referring to the massive sea monster that attacked my ship and my men? My people killed it."

There was a collective gasp from the civilians gathered nearby. They had heard some sort of commotion, but only the warriors on the hills and beach had seen what had transpired.

"Why are you here?" the aged civilian asked.

"Me and my men are here on behalf of the rest of the Allied Expeditionary Unit. We're looking for an ally against the Fire Nation."

"A likely story. You are a Fire Nation spy, sent here to spearhead an invasion," the old man's voice was accusatory. "You will tell us what we want to know or be dealt with, permanently. Who is out there? How many ships has the Fire Lord sent against us?"

"I'm no spy." Bedford kept his voice even. "If I were a spy, I wouldn't have immediately turned myself into this island's guard force upon arrival. I wanted to talk to whoever is in charge here. I came with no intention other than diplomacy."

"Suki..." For the first time, the village elder looked unsure. "Is this true? I was under the impression you caught him on the beach, trying to sneak in."

The girl holding the sword to Bedford's throat turned towards the elder. "What he's saying about the beach is true, Oyaji. He _did_ surrender to us. But I'm having trouble believing the other parts of his story."

She turned back towards Bedford, sword still placed unwavering an inch from his neck. "What is this 'Allied Expeditionary Force '? What nation do you work for? Earth Kindgom? Water Tribes?"

"We aren't under the control of any government in this world. We're an autonomous unit, much like your warriors. Our mission is to take down the Fire Nation."

Suki snorted. "And how do you plan on doing that? With these things?" She waved down at the pile of Bedford's equipment at her feet.

She sheathed her sword, bent over, and picked up the automatic rifle, waving it in front of Bedford. "What is this thing, anyway? It's badly balanced. It's a terrible war club."

"Please put that down. It's a highly dangerous weapon, especially if used improperly."

Suki threw it to another warrior, who reached up and caught it. Its weight made it awkward to handle, and it almost slipped from the warrior's grasp before she grabbed it around the trigger guard, fingers coming a bit too close to the trigger for comfort.

"Try and find out what it does, Akiko," the commander told her.

The taller warrior turned the weapon around, closing one eye to look down the barrel as her fingers found the selector switch. There was a soft _click_ as the safety catch came off. "It's no club, that's for sure," she said. "Looks mechanical to me."

Inwardly, Bedford cringed. These two had broken all the rules of firearms safety in twenty seconds flat.

He shifted in his ropes to look Akiko in the eye. " _Put it down._ "

The older warrior saw Bedford's expression and suddenly looked uneasy. She gingerly laid the weapon back on the snowy sand, then backed away from it, joining ranks with the others.

"If this 'Allied Expeditionary Unit' is such a significant force, and you've been fighting the Fire Nation, how come no one knows who you are?" Oyaji asked.

"I don't think the Fire Nation knows who we are. We're trying to keep it that way."

"But if you've been fighting them, then how can they _not_ know who you are?"

"We are in opposition to the Fire Nation. However, we've never actually made any sort of aggressive contact with their troops, at least, not yet." Bedford saw Oyaji's confused face, then added, 'we're new here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a long story. One that I'm willing to tell, but preferably in private. Some of these people might not believe me."

Oyaji's eyes met Suki's, and they came to a silent agreement. There was no more advantage to be had in interrogating Bedford out here.

"Untie him and bring him to my hut," Oyaji said. "We will continue our questioning there."

* * *

 _0953 Hours, Grid Square 15VAY189673_

 _Forty miles northwest of Kyoshi Island_

The Royal Air Force Douglas EC-47 Shepherd flew in great circles, twenty thousand feet over the glittering ocean.

Every so often, the big communications plane would duck into the thick clouds, staying there for a few minutes, before banking back out to make its circuitous course yet again.

For the five crewmen aboard the Shepherd, it was now a routine mission. Sure, flying above a strange, ancient land which had never seen an airplane before had been a novelty a month ago, but after several long, uneventful sorties where the only highlight was seeing the occasional Fire Nation ship below, the job became dull quickly.

The modified cargo aircraft had been outfitted with powerful communications equipment and a radar antenna, contained in a large bulge below the fuselage, making it perfect for this twofold mission.

The job was simple. The EC-47 was there to provide a communications bridge between the USS _Langley_ and the AEU's base out west. Working with with two other Shepherds, spaced fifty miles apart, they worked to relay any messages from Bedford's mission to AEU headquarters, almost instantly.

The second reason that they were there was to gather intelligence. Specifically, information about Fire Nation shipping routes. For the past four hours, they had seen a few Fire Nation cargo ships, each travelling alone and unescorted. This far south, there was little resistance. The Earth Kingdom navy was mostly defending its coasts farther north, while the Southern Water Tribe apparently was unwilling to come out this far from the poles to engage.

So, it was a little unusual when they saw three Fire Nation troopships travelling in close formation.

The copilot had his spotting scope trained on the ships. "Enemy shipping. Three of 'em, close formation. Heading one-five-zero, roughly."

"Get some photos of them," the pilot ordered. "We'll shadow then for a little bit."

* * *

 _Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

Bedford sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of Oyaji's hut. The elder sat across him, with a low table with two steaming cups of tea on it separating them.

The colonel wasn't bound anymore, in deference to his cooperation. However, Suki sat beside him, fanning herself with an object which Bedford decided wasn't designed just to push air around. His equipment was stacked by the walls of the hut.

"What did you mean by 'we're new here'?" Oyaji asked Bedford. "Tell me everything."

"You may or may not believe this." Bedford reached down and took a sip of the tea before continuing. "Any rational person would consider my story farfetched, myself included. But I must assure you that what I say is true."

He looked up, knowing he had the other two's attention. "You see, we're not from around here..."

* * *

 _Two Months Prior_

 _October 4th, 1945_

 _Norden, Germany_

Colonel Harry Bedford, commanding officer of 2nd Battalion, 505th Parachute Regimental Combat Team, looked out over the North Sea, watching the naval transports unloading supplies onto the pier.

Surreal. That was the word to describe it. After two straight years of life-or-death combat, and four different parachute jumps right into the enemy's lair, after Italy, France, Holland, Belgium, and the bitter end in Germany. All fighting the men in green-gray uniforms and harsh accents.

Men who were now no more than fifty feet from Bedford, helping load Allied equipment from the ships to the waiting trucks and jeeps.

German soldiers, still dressed in uniform, rubbing shoulders with his paratroopers. The ones who spoke English joked and jostled with 82nd Airborne men.

Less than half a year ago they would've been cursing each other's very name, killing each other with no remorse. But now they got along as easily as they would their own compatriots.

War was mad, true, but perhaps peace was even crazier.

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Apologies for the late update. Busy week. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! This was originally rated M, which screwed up my viewer numbers for Chapter 2, (anything above T doesn't show up on casual browsing,) but a quick look at my neighbors in M City (Zutara Kinktober, wtf really?!) and I realized that my work is less mature than those up in M. So, I knocked back the rating to a hard T.**

 **The EC-47 Guardian is a fictional variant of the C-47 Dakota transport. I gave it more powerful communications gear and radar, plus room for another crewman, a radar operator. They will serve an important role in the story.**

 **Harry Bedford was a battalion commander in the 82nd Airborne Division, and a veteran of four combat jumps, namely, Sicily, Salerno, Normandy, and Nijmegen.**

 **The last scene in this chapter is a flashback and the beginning of the explanation of how a small force of WWII troops wound up in the ATLA world. It will also serve to introduce us to some of the other important characters in this story.**

 **Cheers! Catch you all next time for Chapter Four!**


	4. Reasons (Part Two)

_Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

"It was a long war, a bloody war. It reached across the whole world and went on six years."

"Six years?" Suki repeated, surprised. "That's not very long. The one happening now has been going on for a hundred!"

Bedford took another sip of tea. It was getting lukewarm. "In those six years, seventy million people died."

"Seventy..." Suki stopped mid-sentence, trying to process the number Bedford had just given out. "That can't be true!"

"When you think about it, the sheer statistics are truly appalling," Bedford replied. "I prefer not to keep it in mind."

Oyaji sat in silence, cup of tea forgotten. A shadow was cast across his face. "It's hard to believe your story, Bedford. _Seventy million_... " he shook his head. "...sounds like the ravings of a madman."

"My war was started by madmen. Lunatics in positions of power, driven by fear, ambition, greed, and hatred." Bedford put his hand on the stock of his BAR. "And their armies were armed with weapons like these. Millions of them, in the hands of scared young men who were told to follow orders and ask no questions.

"What does that thing do?" Suki asked, staring at the weapon.

"It makes the wielder more efficient at dealing out death than any sword, bow, or spear. Faster and more precise in the science of killing than any bender. And it only takes a few months of training to get acquainted with. Would you like a demonstration?"

"No." This man was either lying, meaning he was a dangerous madman, or he told the truth, which was worse. Were they to believe that in some alternate world, somewhere, seventy million human beings had died in six years?

Bedford saw that the doubt on both of their faces. "I see that you still have trouble believing me. Understandable. Let me tell you about a man, the one who started the war. A man named Adolf Hitler..."

* * *

 _Two Months Prior_

 _October 4th, 1945_

 _Norden, Germany_

"Stack those boxes carefully!" Harry Bedford called out to his men. They were still unloading supply crates and stacking them onto trucks on the pier. Bedford slung his BAR and ran up the pier to assist.

He picked up a crate labelled **20X110MM SHELLS-HIGH EXPLOSIVE** from inside a transport and began carrying it to the nearest truck, then turned around to repeat the action.

"Seriously, Colonel, sir. We can handle this stuff." A familiar voice. Captain Calvin Ryan, a lean, handsome, dark-haired paratrooper, twenty-five years old, who wore a sardonic smile on his face. He was one of 2nd Battalion's company commanders.

Bedford stacked another box onto the truck bed of a British Morris. "Make sure these are tied down securely, Ryan. Can't have them bouncing around."

"No problem, sir. I've already told the men that." Following Bedford's example, Ryan grabbed a crate, brought it over, and placed it down gently. "What's all this stuff, sir?"

" It's for the airfield south of town. The RAF squadron there wants their light ordnance and ammunition loaded and trucked over. Call it payment for us parking our C-47s on their tarmac."

"Damn Limeys." Ryan sighed. "When's the rest of our division going to arrive?"

"Two weeks from now. They've shipped most of our light equipment over, though."

"Oh, yes, sir, don't I know that! Fox Company's camped right beside the supply dump. The first sergeant's up to his neck trying to stop the boys from replacing their stuff with brand new weapons."

"Oh, really?"

"What the good sarge doesn't know is that I scored me a nice Tommy from over there." Ryan grinned, tapping the gleaming new M1A1 Thompson submachine gun slung over his shoulder. "So much ammo over there, too. Usually I wouldn't say no to extra ammo, but the entire Wehrmacht didn't shoot this many rounds in the whole fucking war!"

"Estimated ammunition consumption figures go out the window during war. This time the brass decided to err on the side of caution."

Ryan wiped the sweat from his forehead after loading another crate. "Oh, sir, almost forgot. Congrats on the promotion."

Bedford smiled wryly. "Thanks."

"Are you going to get your own regiment?"

"Next week. They're giving me the 508th."

"Staff job." Ryan sounded disappointed. "Sir, why can't anyone start a new war somewhere else?"

"That's absolutely no one's wish, Ryan."

"Pardon me, sir, but peace is goddamned boring. Stacking boxes wasn't what I signed up for. Hell, I'd rather be training some fresh-faced recruit rather than piling bullets for Limeys."

"Would you rather be back in Cheneux, freezing your balls off and facing the pride of the SS? Or jumping out of a perfectly good aircraft?"

Ryan replied without hesitation. "Yes. Definitely, sir."

"You're crazy, Ryan."

"The company commander chuckled. "That's been said about me before, sir."

Bedford looked back down the pier and spotted two figures standing there. One was dressed in the light brown uniform of a British officer and had a clipboard of some sort. The other was taller, dressed in the same green-gray of the Germans on the pier.

"I've got to deal with this," Bedford said to Ryan. "Make sure everything's stacked and secured before the end of the hour."

"Sir." Ryan put up a salute.

Bedford returned it with a sharp snap, then made his way towards the two officers.

* * *

 _Grid Square 15VAY196671_

 _Thirty-three miles northwest of Kyoshi Island_

The EC-47 Shepherd shadowed its targets, circling high above and out of sight above the three Fire Nation warships sailing in close formation.

"See anything different?" the pilot asked the copilot, who was still manning the spotting scope.

"I'm dialled in all the way. Standby." The copilot closed one eye and squinted. "They're locked and loaded. They have crew manning the forward catapult, lots of activity on deck."

"Strange," mused the pilot. The other Fire Nation ships they'd seen had been buttoned up tightly against the cold out here, with few crew up on deck to face the biting wind. Most ships on this route were unarmed. Those with catapults or large crossbows (ballistae, the analysts had called them,) didn't have their emplacements manned. "Get some more snapshots, lads. The intel chaps are going to love this."

The copilot pulled out his camera and shot off a quick roll of film. "They haven't changed course. They're still headed one-five-zero."

The navigator looked up from his map, ruler and grease pencil still in hand. "If they keep on that bearing for a couple more hours, they'll run straight into Privateer."

"Could they be headed anywhere else?" the pilot asked.

"I don't think so. If they wanted to head towards the Earth Kingdom continent, they would be taking a more easterly route, say one-two-zero. On the heading they're on, there's only two places they could be going to." The navigator held up his map and pointed to two spots with his pencil. "It's either Whaletail Island or Kyoshi Island..."

"... Whaletail's uninhabited," the radar operator interrupted. "Remember the briefing?"

"Any chance that they could be a patrol group?"

"Could be. They usually have a patrol line northeast of Whaletail. Regular routes, just to discourage the Earth Navy from coming out too far and cutting their sea supply lines."

"Maybe we should alert Privateer, just in case?" suggested the navigator.

The pilot thought about this for a moment. "You have a point. If these three cross the Whaletail patrol lines and keep hearing towards Kyoshi, we'll call Privateer. But if they join the patrols, we've got nothing to worry about."

* * *

Twenty thousand feet below the Shepherd, leaning on the front railing of the middle ship, was a lieutenant commander of the Fire Navy.

His name was Zhang Min. Like most of the officer corps of the Fire Nation military, he was a firebender, and considered himself an accomplished one.

As he leaned against the railing, he recalled a recent conversation with a certain fast-rising Fire Navy officer, an former upperclassman from his academy

 _"Claiming new lands for the Fire Lord is the easiest way to get noticed,"_ Commander Zhao had told him over lunch at the great harbor at Sunrise Bay two weeks ago. _"Just a tip for an old friend."_

At that point, Zhao had gotten up, gave Zhang Min his customary smirk, and left.

Looking back, it hadn't been a bad trade. Up-to-date information on the latest movements of the elusive Avatar, in exchange for a nice tip from a man obviously going places fast.

Now, the problem was finding a suitable place to claim. The Earth Kingdom was out as an option. The easy lands to conquer were already colonized. Breaking the stalemate to the west of the great city of Ba Sing Se had been a problem that hundreds of officers before him were unable to solve and too great a risk to his personal safety.

The Water Tribes were out as well. The northern one was just too heavily fortified. Only a massive invasion force, one far above Zhang's power to summon, could succeed. The southern tribe was too far, too cold, and too inconsequential.

An island in the Central Ocean would be ideal. One that was populated, but not too large, one easily taken by a battalion of good troops. One previously untouched by any other conqueror.

It was two sleepless days of constant research, delving into the library of the Royal Fire Military Academy, before he hit upon his target.

Kyoshi Island. It was perfect. A relatively small, populated island, one that the war had no need to touch, but was there for the taking. Of course, there was a guard force, but no pack of girls could stand in the face of a full Fire Nation battalion. Zuko, the banished prince, had a much smaller force and had caused significant damage.

Easy pickings.

The lieutenant commander watched his men priming and loading the forward catapult. A smile, similar to the one worn so often by his esteemed upperclassman, was slowly spreading on his face.

Zhang Min the Conqueror...that didn't sound so bad.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Don't worry, we'll be getting some action soon! Within two or three chapters. The first contact between the AEU and Fire Nation troops should be interesting.**

 **We'll be having several more of those flashbacks in Norden, introduce some more of the AEU's big hitters.**

 **Apologies for typos, I'm writing most of this on a mobile device with crappy autocorrect that I can't figure out how to turn off.**

 **Reviews are very welcome! And thank you to my small handful of followers and favoriters (?) so far, makes me feel really good. Catch you all next time for Chapter Five!**


	5. Incoming

_Two Months Prior_

 _October 4th, 1945_

 _Norden, Germany_

Major General Joachim von Weiss wasn't a man who struck anyone as a soldier, much less a career officer in the Wehrmacht.

To Bedford, von Weiss looked more like an actor in one of those war films he used to watch on weekends during the buildup to the Normandy invasion.

The German always stood straight as a ruler, in perfect regulation posture. His uniform was spotless, carefully pressed and starched as if he were at a parade, rather than in the field with the dust and the dirt.

He was a handsome man whose light blue eyes always twinkled with familiarity, no matter who he faced. Below his officer's cap, his black hair was beginning to gray.

The stereotypical officer and gentleman. He even carried an aristocratic name.

Beside the German was a different type of person. Brigadier Martin Swales was short and slightly overweight, wearing the brown khakis of a British soldier. He had thick glasses jammed squarely onto his nose and a drooping ginger mustache over his lip. He held a clipboard tightly to his chest.

Bedford came to attention in front of the two and saluted Swales, before a slight, respectful nod to von Weiss.

"Good morning, Colonel Bedford," von Weiss said, with only a bare trace of his native accent in his English. " I trust that my men have been helpful?"

"Certainly, General. They've lightened our workload significantly."

The Germans were, like von Weiss, native to the area around Norden, and had once been under his command, though now serving as part of the local guard. Most of them needed money, and were grateful for some extra cash helping unload the ships.

Of course, the battalion-sized number of veterans wouldn't have been needed at all had the brass not screwed up the supply chain. The entire 82nd Airborne was supposed to be based at the airfield in Norden, and the division's entire supply of small arms, ammunition radios, and rations had been shipped over in a large convoy, escorted by three destroyers and a handful of PT boats.

Added to that was the pileup of Royal Air Force ordnance and spare parts at the Norden docks, with only two battalions and an British reserve engineering company to deal with them. A supply headache of the highest order, with no help in sight for two weeks.

At least the British had done something. They flew in Swales, a senior supply officer, to try and make sense of the chaos.

Swales made hurried notes on his clipboard. "Colonel, it appears your men are making good time. With their help, around ninety percent of the ordnance and seventy percent of the infantry supply has been properly collected and stored. Two more days should do it. "

"That's good to know, sir. We're working our hardest, though this isn't exactly what we were trained to do."

"Right now, it's more of an engineering problem. We've only got a company of engineers, and they're not even regulars. They're all Home Guard auxiliaries." Swales looked over his shoulder and scowled at the one hundred and twenty or so reserve soldiers currently manning trucks, forklifts, shovels, and jackhammers, digging anti-aircraft gun emplacements and guard towers for the base two hundred yards away.

"There's even a few women in that company," Swales continued. "ATS folk . I suppose they wanted to see what Germany was all about before they all demobbed and went home."

"Any combat experience, any of them?" Bedford asked.

"None. They were all based on Dover for the war. Not one of the men is under the age of forty. Their deputy commander's a lass. Competent, I suppose, but still..." Swales sighed. "Best I could scrounge. Most engineering units are tied up all over the place in the rebuilding effort."

Bedford shrugged. "It's better than nothing, sir."

"I see you engaged in some exercise just now, Colonel." Von Weiss pointed towards the ships.

"Beats jogging, General. And we don't have the facilities set up for target practice yet."

"There I must disagree with you, Colonel. Few things are better than a nice, brisk run by the sea." The German sniffed the air appreciatively and smiled. "In this temperature, not too cold, but refreshing, exercise doesn't feel like a duty. By the way, where in America are you from, Colonel?"

"Chicago."

"Ah. Much wind, I hear, and by a great lake. Sea air is preferable for me, however. A pleasure conversing with you, Colonel." He gave Bedford a polite little nod.

"Sir." Bedford saluted Swales and walked away.

* * *

 _Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

"They had called it the 'Final Solution'. And so it was carried out. We still don't know how many were killed by the Nazis. But educated estimates say fifteen million people, probably more."

Bedford had gotten Suki and Oyaji's full attention for more than half an hour. Besides the sound of his own voice, there had been silence. Two pairs of wide eyes staring at him, listening to an account of how tens of millions had died.

"My unit came across one of those camps." Bedford continued. "It was near a city named Ludwigslust. When we got there, the guards had run away. They had left there a thousand dead on the ground, dead of extreme hunger."

Oyaji looked into the man's eyes, trying to detect any sign of how he felt about all this. There had been a change in how Bedford had spoken. Ever since he had arrived on the island, the colonel had spoken in a matter-of-fact, almost monotone way. His eyes had been unreadable, almost challenging. Now, they were downcast, looking down at the table rather than straight at the people he was talking to.

"No one buried them. None of the survivors had the strength to do it. Anyone who was still alive was skin and bones. Living skeletons." Now a tinge of anger had crept into Bedford's voice. His head came back up, and there was a glare in his eyes. "Our involvement in the war ended six days later, though the conflict didn't officially end for four months. Only later did we learn that the camp we liberated was small. Our allies had discovered a camp a thousand times as large farther east."

"Were these men brought to justice for what they did?" Suki asked.

"Adolf Hitler killed himself ten days before Germany surrendered. So did the main architect of this madness, Heinrich Himmler. As for the rest of Hitler's circle, I don't know. Last I heard of the matter, the coalition was putting together a special tribunal to prosecute the war criminals."

They sat in silence for a minute. Oyaji rubbed his beard in thought.

"Do you believe me now?" Bedford asked the elder.

Another pause. Oyaji looked from Bedford to Suki and back, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Strangely, I think your tale is believable. But how is it that you and the rest of your 'Allied Expeditionary Unit ' ended up in this world?"

"We're not completely sure, either. But we may have found an explanation."

* * *

 _Two Months Prior_

 _October 4th, 1945_

 _Norden, Germany_

Bedford had been taking a pull from his canteen while sitting on a bench on the boardwalk. He had just come from a supply briefing that had reiterated exactly what he'd heard from Swales, but much less concisely.

It was a few minutes past noon, and the men had taken a break from dock work. Lunch was being served in the camp for all who had been involved, Americans, British, and Germans alike. The din of almost two thousand men chattering over mess carried the few hundred yards to where Bedford sat.

He liked to sit out here once in a while. He had a standing invitation to take his meals with von Weiss, Swales, and the rest of the senior officers from two infantry battalions and an RAF air wing, or sit with the men of 2nd Battalion, but right now he wanted to be alone.

It was a cloudy day, and the air smelled of the rain that was to come soon. Completely different from that sunny spring day just over half a year ago, the second of May, when a patrol from Charlie Company had stumbled across a large compound surrounded by high chain-link fences and barbed wire.

They were the toughest troops in the world. No battle could faze them, no killing could horrify them anymore. At least, that was what they thought.

On that day, Bedford saw hardened veterans weep and remorseless killers throw up. And he couldn't blame them. There was something completely, essentially _wrong_ about seeing human beings piled like cobblestones on the dirt. Unarmed civilians, regular people who had never carried a rifle in their lives, dead from bullets, beatings, or simple, systematic starvation.

War, he could take. In battle, every man had his weapon, his squadmates, and his own two feet to protect him. It was a test of skill. If you were prepared, you lived. If you weren't, you died.

Bedford didn't know what would've happened if his men had captured the camp's SS guards. Some summary executions at the very least, probably some vengeful paratroopers using their newfound prisoners as impromptu punching bags.

But the SS men had fled, fading into the countryside as their beloved Reich collapsed. Instead of standing and fighting to the last man, as they had always done, they ran away. Bedford scowled at the thought.

"Fucking cowards," he muttered aloud.

Behind him, someone clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

"If my mother could hear you now," a voice drawled, "she wouldn't approve in the slightest."

Bedford snapped his head around, then got up from the bench to shake the speaker's hand. "It's been a long time since England, Pete."

"Too long it's been, my friend." Lieutenant Colonel Peter Carwell put an arm around Bedford's shoulder. "I got a three-day leave and heard that you were based just up the road. I hitched a ride on a supply truck."

"Where were you posted?"

"Osnabruck. A few hours south of here."

"You still with the Rangers?"

Carwell smiled, patting the blue-and-gold, diamond-shaped unit patch on his left arm that signified a US Army Ranger. "Always leading the way."

He gestured to the camp and its surroundings. "Nice operation you've got here, Harry."

"If you think that's impressive, I've got a bigger gig coming up next week. When the 508th PIR arrives here, I'll assume command."

"A whole regiment. Well, I'll admit that I'm impressed."

In the distance, thunder boomed. Rain began to drizzle down, gathering intensity with each passing second.

"Come on, Pete. Let's get to cover. Thunderstorms can be a real bastard out here."

* * *

 _Grid Square 16WAZ051826_

 _Twenty-five miles northwest of Kyoshi Island_

"They're south of the patrol line and still headed one-five-zero," the copilot of the Shepherd reported.

"Radio Privateer immediately," the pilot ordered.

The radio operator adjusted the frequency of his radio, twisting knobs until he was on the right channel.

"Privateer, this is Bird Dog Three. Do you copy, over?"

* * *

"Sir." The captain of the Fire Nation troop ship appeared in front of Zhang Min. "We will be at Kyoshi Island in an hour.

"Very well." Zhang Min gestured to his aide. "Ling. My map."

A scroll was passed into his hands. He unfurled it, examining the layout of Kyoshi Island yet another time.

He went through the plan in his head again, as he was sure his subordinates were doing on the other two ships.

He had three companies of a hundred and twenty men each, one mounted and two on foot. Upon landing on the island's north beach, the cavalry would rush through the valley, using speed to get through the pass and break out into the open ground of the island's interior.

One of the infantry companies would follow behind, to engage any resistance in the lightly forested valley. The last company would then sweep the low hills west of the pass to secure their right flank, before linking up with the other two at Keum Village, where the more open terrain allowed a battle of maneuver that naturally favored both his numerical superiority and his troops' training.

The mountainous ground east of the pass might've been a problem, since they were impassable and could well shelter enemy resistance, but Zhang knew that the area was within range of his ship's catapults.

He handed the map back to Ling. "Signal the other ships and confirm their preparations. Today, we take Kyoshi for the Fire Lord."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I noticed that I have (or at least had) some German readers, who were probably laughing at me for choosing a random coastal town on the North Sea. I assure you, the geography of the place will be important later.**

 **I had to fictionalize some historical details. After WW2, the entire 82nd Airborne Division was based in Berlin for occupation duty, not Norden. Also, Harry Bedford is the fictional replacement as 2nd Battalion CO of the very real (and badass) Lt. Col. Benjamin H. Vandervoort, who was awarded two Distinguished Service Crosses (and played by John Wayne in 1962's _The Longest Day_ ).**

 **Thank you all very much for reading, especially to my new followers!**

 **Reviews very welcome! Catch you all next time for Chapter Six!**


	6. Stand To

_1043 hours, Grid Square 16WVC374873_

 _Six miles south of Kyoshi Island_

The voice crackled through the radio on the bridge of the _Langley_.

"Privateer, this is Bird Dog Three. Do you copy, over?"

"We read you, Bird Dog, over," Captain Henning said.

"We have visual on three Fire Nation warships travelling in close formation. They're headed your way, bearing one-five-zero at thirty kilometers. Speed, around twenty knots. They look like they're preparing for aggressive action against Kyoshi Island. Do you copy, over?"

"Roger that, Bird Dog. Stand by. We need you to shadow the formation and report any course changes. We'll have to route some communication to HQ through you as well, over."

"Will comply, Privateer. Bird Dog Three out."

Henning put down the microphone. "Corwin. Have someone get Colonel Carwell and Captain Ryan over to the bridge immediately."

The first officer ran off to follow his orders.

"How long until Bedford is supposed to check in?" Henning asked the second officer.

"On the hour, sir. That's thirteen minutes from now."

"Raise him right now. We need to brief him on the situation."

* * *

 _Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

"What do you want of us?" Oyaji asked Bedford.

"An alliance. We want to bring balance back to this world. Your founder, Avatar Kyoshi, stood for and fought for that very thing."

"Kyoshi is neutral, and has been since the beginning of this war. We cannot risk getting involved in this madness. We're the last safe refuge in the world, apart from Ba Sing Se."

"You've already been attacked. When I was out in the village, I heard a villager remark that the Fire Nation had paid a visit. Add that to the damaged huts outside and the fact that you were so frightened that I might be a Fire Nation spy, and that leads me to believe that the visit wasn't friendly."

"But that was different. They only came to seek out the Avatar."

"You fought back, didn't you?"

"Yes," Suki replied. There was anger in her eyes. "Of course we did. With Aang's help, we stopped them from burning the village. We bought the Avatar enough time to escape, and the enemy ship left our island and followed him."

"You resisted them, this time successfully. I know what these people will do. They'll be back with more soldiers."

"Trumpeter, this is Privateer," a disembodied voice said from the corner of the room. "Do you copy?"

Oyaji jumped. In a flash, Suki was on her feet, both fans in hand and crouched into a fighting stance. "Who was that? Who spoke? Show yourself!"

The commander of Kyoshi Warriors advanced towards the device propped against the hut's wall cautiously, prepared to any action. Oyaji had his back to the opposite side of the hut, staring at it.

Speech still came from the strange metal box. "Trumpeter, do you read? Acknowledge, over."

Bedford doubled over in his seated position, laughing.

"What's so funny, Bedford?" Suki demanded, turning from the radio to look back at him.

"God, I'm sorry. It's just..." Bedford held back another laugh, took a deep breath, and instantly returned to his cool demeanor. "It's a communications device. With it I can talk to my men from a distance of up to thirty miles. My soldiers are trying to reach me right now." Bedford pointed at the radio. "They want to make sure I'm all right. Let me talk to them?"

Suki nodded, relaxed from her stance, stood aside, and waved Bedford towards the radio.

"Trumpeter copies, Privateer. Everything is going well."

A lengthy message came through. Bedford listened to it in silence, digesting the information he had received.

Most of the terminology, Suki didn't understand. But she knew she had heard "Fire Nation warships", "invasion force", and "twenty miles".

Bedford's eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his chin with his hand as he stood away from the communication device. He was thinking, weighing his options.

"Privateer, you are cleared to intercept and engage the enemy ships," Bedford finally said into the radio. "Sink them all and leave as little trace as you can. Do you copy, over?"

* * *

 _Grid Square 16WVC374873_

 _Six miles south of Kyoshi Island_

"Roger, that, Trumpeter. Privateer out."

The _Langley_ was anchored six miles south of the island to avoid detection. Close enough to be within a few minutes of gun range of most of the island, but hidden by Kyoshi from any possibility of detection by Fire Nation shipping.

Henning turned to Corwin, who was conning the ship. "Raise anchor and restart engines. Give me all ahead two-thirds, course two-eight-five."

Corwin nodded and slammed the engine order telegraph to the requisite setting.

The _Langley_ rumbled to life, its huge engines revving up. But there was something wrong. Instead of a steady rumble, the engines coughed, laboring to get up to power. Screeching and groaning came from down below, shaking the ship, before the sound sputtered to a halt. The _Langley_ was dead in the water.

"Conn, engine room," said the intercom on the bulkhead.

Henning picked up the interphone. "Conn, aye."

"Captain, the engines took a hit from the attack earlier. They're jammed. They won't start."

"Get them repaired now. How long will it take?

"Hour and a half, minimum. Closer to two, skipper."

"Shit," Henning muttered.

"What seems to be the problem, Captain?" It was Lieutenant Colonel Carwell's genial southern-accented voice coming from the doorway of the bridge. The Ranger was accompanied by Captain Ryan and the ship's second officer, Higgins.

"Aerial recon just called in three Fire Nation ships headed our way. Colonel Bedford gave us permission to engage, but we took damage from the attack earlier and can't get the engines running."

"That would seem to be a problem."

"Well, we have to tell Colonel Bedford that," Ryan pointed out.

"We're trying to reach him again." A radio operator caught Henning's eyes and signalled. "Here, we've got him on the line."

"Get me Privateer as well," Henning told his communications officer. "We need more details on what we're facing."

* * *

 _Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

"This better not be a trick, Bedford," Suki growled at the colonel. She was tense, fans up and ready to strike.

"I assure you that I'm telling the truth, as I have been ever since I got here."

Suki marched towards Bedford, waving a declarative finger at him. "If you're lying..."

A tremendous crashing noise interrupted her.

"The danger gong!" Oyaji gasped. He ran outside, disappearing from Bedford's view for a moment, then came back. "Three torches!"

There was a row of torches atop Toshi Hill, beside the outpost. Three torches lit meant three enemy ships on the horizon, headed right for the island. Bedford wasn't lying.

A voice crackled through the radio again. Bedford picked up the handset to receive it.

"Trumpeter, this is Privateer. We have a problem."

Again, Bedford took in the information silently. As he listened, he bent down, grabbed a tubular case from beside his weapon, unscrewed the cover, and pulled out a tightly-rolled stack of maps. He sorted through them, choosing one in particular, reaching over to place it on the low table.

He carried over the bulky radio and brought it down beside the map.

"Pete, Ryan. Get the infantrymen to prepare for a fight," he said into the radio. "Tell them to load the boats. Bring ammunition and explosives, as much as you can take. Set off for the island when I give the command. Out."

Bedford put down the handset and turned to Suki. "Can you trust me?"

"No." Suki folded her arms. "I'm not taking that risk."

"I'm a soldier. The war I told you about? I was right in the thick of it."

"I know that. But I don't know if you're a threat, too."

"You saw what happened to the massive sea serpent that attacked my ship, didn't you?"

Suki nodded. "It was, well...brutal. The _unagi_ has terrorized this island for a long time."

"My forces could've turned that power against this island. If we wanted to attack, this whole village would've been a smoking ruin an hour ago, along with much of the island. There would be no reason for me to surrender to your troops. Simply put, we don't need any subterfuge to defeat you. I came here to try and form an alliance, not to attack your people. Allies stand together. We can help you fight the Fire Nation off, if you just allow us to."

Bedford saw the Kyoshi Warrior commander deep in thought. She was considering his words carefully. He raised the handset of his radio and waved it.

"I have information on the force we're facing. Estimates are about the size of an understrength battalion, say three hundred, three hundred fifty men. I know your warriors are skilled, but there's no way you can take those odds. They outnumber you five to one."

"Seven or eight to one, more like." Suki put her head in her hands and sighed. "All right, Bedford. I intend to save this island. You better make the difference."

The colonel reached for his radio. "Privateer, this is Trumpeter. Get the infantry over here as quickly as you can. Meet me at the island's northernmost settlement."

"Can you tell me what you plan to do?"

"Fight hard." She looked back up at Bedford, and there was fire in her eyes. "Hold off the Fire Nation until the people of the island can escape. Our founder, Avatar Kyoshi, would never have us do it any other way."

"I knew that already." Bedford unfurled his map of the island and rotated it to face Suki. "How do you plan to fight them?"

"Here." Suki placed her finger on the northern forest, located in the pass which led through to the village and to the rest of the island. "They will have to land on the northern shore. There's no other suitable landing spot where the water is deep enough to support their large ships. Any force landing there will have to advance through the valley, no other way around it. We'll ambush them in this narrow pass here, and attack _their_ main body, delay them and cause them a lot of pain."

"That's a viable plan. But why not set up here?" Bedford pointed to the hills west of the pass. "This area dominates the valley."

"That's too far from where the enemy will be. The Warriors are close-in fighters. We don't have bows or heavy weapons to hit from range."

"But my men do. That's what these are." Bedford motioned towards his BAR. "They're like bows, but hit much farther, much faster, much harder, and much more accurately. We call them guns."

"That's an advantage. You mean to say all your men carry these?"

"Of varying types. But same basic principle." Bedford took a pencil from his map case and drew a mark on a line of hills, running north to south along the west side of the pass. "How tall are these hills here?"

"Similar heights. Around four hundred feet each."

"And this ridge?" Bedford marked the east side of the valley.

"It's impassable. Around two hundred feet of sheer rock. It's a cliff."

"How about your deployments? I'm assuming you'll be using the treetops to ambush them."

Suki's index finger traced a U-shape, curved towards the village. "We'll line here. Let them come in towards us, then drop down and ambush from close range. We can take down a lot of them and slow the rest."

"I see the logic in it. But my troops will be a factor. Your plan works with your warriors fighting alone. However, with our weapons, there's a good chance your people will be hit alongside the Fire Nation troops. How are your warriors divided? How many fighters per group?"

"We're trained to fight in pairs or teams of seven."

"I see." Bedford was thinking furiously now. "I have a plan."

* * *

 _Two miles south of Kyoshi Island_

There were fifteen of them, five a boat. They had three speedboats, travelling in a line, packed not just with people but also ammunition and explosives.

Twelve of them, an infantry squad, were paratroopers. They had three officers with them, including Peter Carwell and Calvin Ryan.

The cold sea spray stung, the frigid air biting at the soldiers crouched in their boats.

Carwell, unlike the rest of the team, had been one of the many thousands who had landed on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. It had been a year and a half since he had been hunched in a landing craft, watching the looming cliffs of Pointe Du Hoc, on a mission to destroy German artillery two hundred feet above them.

Now, on another cold, wet day, he was riding back into battle, into another foreign land attacked by tyranny, towards another conflict they hadn't started, but knew they had to end.

Riding to another war to be won.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **It's time to gear up for some real action, because it's coming next chapter!**

 **Not many things to note, though some of you may be wondering why of all the veteran soldiers, only Carwell hit the beaches at Normandy.**

 **It's because of the fifteen AEU reinforcements, thirteen (the infantry squad plus Captain Ryan) are paratroopers, who were all dropped _behind_ the beaches on D-Day. The remaining member is a special case and will be explained next chapter.**

 **Thank you all for reading! Reviews welcome!**

 **Catch you next time for Chapter Seven.**


	7. The Battle of Kyoshi Island (Part One)

_Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

Bedford checked his watch. Forty minutes until the enemy got here.

He stood in the middle of the village, fully equipped. His weapon was in his hands, the bulky Type 13 strapped to his back. He had everything but his map case and canned rations, which he'd left at Oyaji's hut for now.

The Kyoshi Warriors stood in groups of seven, loosely surrounding him. Bedford had counted them while waiting. Forty-five of them, including Suki. Barely a platoon. They were all restless, shifting around and holding muttered conversations. From time to time, a suspicious glance was thrown his way.

Behind him, the civilians were evacuating. They had obviously drilled at it before, because even the small children and old people knew what to do, forming orderly lines, carrying what valuables they could.

Oyaji was at their head. He walked among the lines, making sure that none of the villagers were missing, encouraging the children to stay calm and the elderly to remain strong. Then he came to the front of the line and shouldered his pack, before he took one more look at the village which had only started recovering from the last attack.

The group began walking south. They would meet with the people from the other villages on the southern shore, where boats would be waiting. If they needed to, they could evacuate the island, as long as their warriors bought them time.

Suki watched them leave as well. When they had faded into the distance, she straightened her back and set her jaw. The Fire Nation would not get past them today. Not if she and her warriors could still fight.

Under the arch which marked the entrance to the village, there were people moving in a loose cluster. They had to be Bedford's soldiers. As they neared, she could see them in better detail.

There were fifteen of them, dressed and armed similarly to Bedford. Fourteen were men, the other a woman, who wore a brown uniform rather than olive green and had a different helmet.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves," Carwell said. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Peter Carwell of the Allied Expeditionary Unit. I am an associate of Colonel Bedford here, who I presume you have already met. Apart from us two, we have another two officers with us, Captain Calvin Ryan and Lieutenant..." Carwell paused and looked at the woman."Sorry. That is, 'Left-tenant' Sarah Ralston. We also have with us a squad of our soldiers, led by Sergeant Barton. Pleasure to meet y'all."

"Get in here." Bedford beckoned the squad towards him. "Listen closely, people."

He pulled out his map and tapped the line of the four-hundred-foot hills. "Squad, we'll set up on these hills here. Separate into Able, Baker, and Charlie Teams. Pete, you're with Barton and Able. You know what to do."

Carwell nodded. "Get the officers first."

"Able gets this northernmost hill. Gives you a good view into the north beach, where they'll land, so call in their movements on the radio. Ryan, you're with Baker. Take the LMG up to the middle hill here." Bedford marked his map. "Ralston, you're with me and Charlie. South hill. I'll need you to set up some explosives as a roadblock. Remember, only open fire on my mark."

Bedford turned to the warriors. '"I'm not in command of you, so I can't give orders. But I suggest you stay here, at the base of this hill." He indicated the place where Charlie Team was supposed to be dug in. "We'll engage them first. When we've thinned them out and they're trapped, you can sweep in from here and hit them at close range. Try to stay out of our line of fire."

He folded his map and tucked it away. "All right, troops. Move out!"

* * *

"Bird Dog, this is Trumpeter, how copy, over?"

"Read you five, Trumpeter, over."

"Request close air support. Coordinates..." Bedford glanced at his map. "One-Six-William-Victor-Charlie-Eight-Two-Seven-One-Two-Five. Enemy shipping, over."

"We copy, Trumpeter. Standby."

It was twenty minutes to the time the enemy was supposed to arrive. The other two fire teams were in position on their respective hills. Charlie Team was, too, leaving only Bedford and Lieutenant Ralston alone in the valley.

They were standing in line with and east of their assigned hill, in one of the valley's narrowest points, only a hundred feet from the base of the hill to the sheer cliffs on the opposite side of the pass.

Bedford and Ralston were carrying two TNT satchels each, with eight high explosive charges per satchel. They had plenty of blasting power. Now to properly apply it.

"Ralston, I need something that'll slow down their advance, bunch them up so our weapons can be brought to bear. What can you give me?"

The Englishwoman looked around her, surveying her surroundings. "We could lay an improvised minefield for them. I could these charges at around waist height..." Her eyes fell on the cliff wall to the east, and a small smile began to form on her face. "Oh. Those cliffs don't look so stable, Colonel. I could bring them down."

"A landslide." Bedford considered it, then nodded. "Do you have enough explosive?"

"Just enough, sir. I'll place the charges myself."

"You have fifteen minutes." Bedford handed her his two satchels.

The auxiliary engineer nodded, then crunched through the snowy underbrush towards the cliff wall.

"Trumpeter, this is Bird Dog," said the radio. "Close air support is en route. ETA five-zero minutes."

"We copy. Trumpeter over and out."

Meanwhile, Ralston was working on the charges. She wired the blocks in pairs, bound together with tape. She had sixteen pairs.

Now to place them. She moved north, planting the charges on the cliff wall at around the same level, five feet off the ground, in line with each other and evenly spaced.

Final step. She started at the north end of the line of charges, working hurriedly, priming each pair to detonate by electrical impulse.

Bedford found Ralston around halfway through the process. "Five minutes, Ralston. Do you need help?"

"No, sir." It was freezing cold, but Ralston was sweating profusely. Lugging around heavy explosives was tiring work, after all. "Two minutes."

"Six, this is Able." Carwell's voice. "The enemy force is landing at the beach. Three ships, coming in fast. Are you in position, over?"

"Negative, Able. We're heading there now, over."

"Ralston?" Bedford called out.

"Here, sir." The English lieutenant ran up to him, trailing detonating wire from a roller in her hand. "All primed."

"Good. Hand me that, and follow me."

* * *

 _North Beach_

The three ships dropped anchor at the beach. Loading ramps dropped onto the sand with a thud, and men rushed from their ships to secure the landing point.

Zhang Min grinned beneath his helmet. As compared to the ferocious battles he'd fought against the Earth Kingdom, a small group of lightly armed girls would be child's play.

His feet touched the snowy sand, and he stretched to loosen up, just in case his bending would be needed today. Not that it was a likely possibility. He'd follow along with the third company, the one sweeping the western flank.

"Cavalry company and second company!" Zhang called out. "Form up! You know the plan! Advance!"

The usual Fire Nation cavalry mount, the komodo rhino, was too big to fit enough on a troop ship to carry a whole company. For rapid shore assaults, the Fire Nation had bred, fifteen years previously, a large flock of ostrich horses.

Though not as brutally strong and more susceptible to battle damage than the rhinos, the ostrich horses made up for it with speed and agility, as well as needing less food and space. Perfect for amphibious operations.

His ostrich cavalry lined up. On Zhang's signal, they charged into the valley in unison, mounts at full gallop. They formed a loose cluster, spread out as best as they could in the narrow pass.

The second company formed up. They would fight in three different platoons, forty troops each, arrayed in solid rectangular ranks to throw back any ambush. Normally, they moved in tight proximity to each other, but the light forest would mean a looser formation. Still, no one could break their rank with light weapons, especially with a numerical disadvantage.

* * *

Carwell knew what the footsteps of horses and chickens sounded like. Growing up on a Kentucky plantation meant he couldn't avoid them. But he'd never heard a chicken's scratching _combined_ with hoofbeats.

He adjusted the scope of his M1903 Springfield to the range of about two-fifty yards and brought the bolt-action rifle up to his shoulder, peering through the scope to examine the enemy.

Carwell reached for the radio.. "All units, this is Able. The enemy has two companies headed in, one cavalry and one infantry. They have one company in reserve on the beach, over."

"Able, Six here. Are they mounted on horses, over?"

"Negative, Six." Carwell gave them another look, through his binoculars this time. "They look like the love child of a rooster and a horse, over."

He shifted in his prone position to watch the beach. A Fire Nation officer stood on the sand, shouting orders and signalling his troops with hand gestures.

When the order came to fire, he knew his first target.

* * *

Ralston crawled into position on top of Charlie Team's hill, panting. Bedford had led her on a sprint uphill to be in position before the Fire Nation arrived, and despite being ten years older than her and carrying a heavy weapon and radio, he looked only slightly winded.

Not her, though. It was all she could do not to start hacking and coughing.

With trembling hands, she reached for two five-round clips and fed them into her Lee-Enfield rifle, cycling the bolt to chamber a round, just as she had practiced in Auxiliary Territorial Service training.

She took her place beside Charlie Team's four riflemen, spread out across the hilltop. Bedford was to her right, BAR mounted on its bipod and pointed downwards.

"First combat engagement?" Bedford muttered to her.

Ralston nodded in reply.

"We've been in several dozen by now. Remember your training. Try to breathe regularly. It helps your aim. Pick your target, don't flinch when you pull the trigger."

"I understand, sir."

"Good. " Bedford thumbed his selector lever from safety to fully automatic. "Prepare to detonate on my order."

Ralston laid her rifle down and reached for the electrical detonator. One twist of the handle was all that would be needed to set off the charges.

The company of ostrich-horsemen thundered through the valley, kicking up snow. Infantry marched purposefully behind them, advancing in three solid formations.

"All units, this is Six. Fire in the hole, repeat, fire in the hole."

The cavalry was almost abreast of their hill when Bedford gave the order. "Now, Ralston!"

She twisted the handle. The sixteen paired charges blew simultaneously. A thunderous roar echoed through the valley, tearing at her eardrums. A cloud of snow momentarily obscured their view.

Then came the rumble, shaking the ground. The already-unstable cliff caved in, tearing itself apart. With a roar, it completely collapsed. Snow, dirt, and rock tumbled and slid over like a tidal wave, falling right on top of the foremost cavalry.

Men and mounts disappeared under fifteen-foot piles of earth. Yells of fear and surprise sounded through the valley, accompanied by the strange shrieks of the pack animals.

Bedford had his first target spotted already. A masked firebender cavalryman who had just launched a large blast of fire through the trees and was calling out for his troops to re-form and respond to the threat. His finger pulled back on his weapon's trigger for a split second, firing the first shots in a war both new and old.

His quick two-round burst was well-aimed, catching the firebender right through the chest. The cavalryman went facedown in the snow, a puddle of blood forming underneath his body.

"Open fire!" Bedford called out, bringing his weapon around to aim right at one of the infantry formations.

* * *

Carwell had heard the explosion and the unmistakable chatter of automatic fire. His target had been surprised by the blast, diving for cover behind a rock. The enemy officer, seeing no immediate threat, popped his head and torso up and began gesturing at the pass, no doubt issuing orders to a subordinate.

The ranger brought his crosshairs to rest on a point just above the officer's right ear, then exhaled, emptying his lungs. This would be a easy shot. The wind was minimal, and at this range, his bullet would fly straight.

He exhaled, emptying his lungs, and fired.

* * *

"Sir, it appears that the cavalry have run into earthbenders," said the captain of the third company.

"Impossible!" Zhang Min growled. "My sources told me there are no benders on the island."

"Only benders or several tons of blasting jelly could shift that much rock, sir."

"Then we must find some way past." Zhang popped up from behind the boulder and pointed at the valley. "Take third company and..."

The captain heard the sharp _crack_ in the distance, but never identified it as the cause of the interruption. The .30-06 round slammed straight through Zhang's helmet, showering him with blood and brains on the way. The captain's jaw dropped in horror as he registered the red hole where the back of the commander's head had been.

Zhang Min's corpse slumped against him. The captain shoved it away, trying to scramble out from behind the boulder to find better cover. His efforts only served to clear the way for another shot, this one aimed right at him.

The impact was like a hard blow. The captain never felt the pain.

* * *

Captain Calvin Ryan stood on top of his hill, feeling the adrenaline rush as he shouldered his Thompson in action again. He squeezed off a whole magazine into one of the Fire Nation platoons in short, rapid bursts, then stopped, frowning. At this range, his weapon was too inaccurate for his liking.

To his right, the two-man crew of the Browning .30 caliber machine gun was working furiously, pumping long, concentrated bursts into the tight formations, mowing through them like hay.

"Private!" Ryan tapped the gunner on the shoulder, yelling above the cacophony.

"Sir?" The gunner didn't look up, still firing the light machine gun.

"You using your weapon?"

"No, sir!" The trooper shook his head.

"Can't hit for shit with my Tommy at this range! Trade you for your carbine?"

"Yes, sir!"

Ryan bent down and placed his submachine gun beside the private. With one hand, the gunner slipped his M1A1 Carbine from his back and handed over its reload magazines.

"Thanks!"

"No problem, sir!"

Ryan flipped the carbine's collapsible stock, locked it into place, and brought it up to his shoulder, grinning. His shooting, this time, was much more precise.

* * *

Bedford watched on as his new enemies were being ripped apart. The .30 caliber machine gun with Baker had alone torn its way through the platoons. With two BARs to its north and south, and his riflemen pouring continuous, accurate fire from the hilltops, they were killing dozens by the second.

There had been a reason why militaries had moved away from phalanxes, infantry squares, and the like. He was seeing that reason right now. Tightly-packed formations were all well and good for melee combat. Perfect, in fact, for this situation, where the Fire Nation would've been facing a skilled, but numerically inferior opponent.

He had now used up two magazines out of the seven he had originally. That was too much for fifteen minutes of combat. The enemy's formations had been broken up anyway, any survivors now huddling behind rocks, trees, and their comrades' bodies in a search for any semblance of cover.

"All units, this is Six," Bedford said into the radio. "Pick your targets and conserve ammunition, over." He reloaded, switching to semiautomatic mode.

"Enemy squad, ten o'clock, base of the hill!" one of his riflemen warned.

Fifteen or twenty enemy troops had broken their cover, trying to push uphill. It was a bold move, as they split up into pairs or threes, this time spreading out more instead of bunching up.

"Take them out."

Bedford swivelled his weapon, squeezing off three quickly-aimed rounds that dropped two in their tracks and wounded another, who stumbled a few more steps before collapsing and screaming for help. Two more crawled over, starting to drag him off, but were hit by multiple shots from his riflemen and went down.

Ralston spotted two runners and began firing as fast as she could work her Lee-Enfield's bolt. It took seven shots, but she nailed one in the hip and the the other somewhere on his torso, both hitting the snow hard. She grabbed two more clips and fed them into her rifle.

Their small-unit assault was a wash. Bedford had chosen his ground well, and there was little concealment for any attacks to be made on any of his fire teams.

"Trumpeter, this is Bird Dog Three," his radio crackled. "Air support is one-five minutes out, over."

"We're a little busy here." Bedford saw a Fire soldier crouched with a companion behind a bush and loosed four rounds through the foliage at them. "You direct them. We need you to take out their ships and reserve force on the north beach. Do not, repeat, do not hit the hills and the valley, there are friendlies there, over."

"Wilco, Trumpeter. Bird Dog out."

* * *

Carwell was working by muscle memory and instinct. He'd never faced in direct battle a group of enemies this large since those intense firefights in the hedgerows of Normandy.

Any enemy soldier pointing, gesturing, shouting orders, or trying to rally troops was his next target. He'd killed a good ten junior officers and NCOs before they'd gotten the hint and began hiding as best as they could among the rocks and snowdrifts of the beach.

Carwell examined the beach with his binoculars. There was still the best part of a company down there, and Able held the most isolated part of the line. If the FN troops were able to coordinate an attack, they could press on with only minimal interference from the other two teams.

"Six, this is Able. We've got their reserves right in front of us. We'd like some more bodies out north for help."

* * *

Bedford gave the situation in front of him a good look before deciding. There couldn't be more than forty or fifty enemies left in the valley, badly disorganized and scattered about. He'd fulfilled his promise to the Kyoshi Warriors that his men would thin the Fire Nation soldiers up for them.

"All units, this is Six. Disengage and reinforce Able. If you've got smoke grenades, throw them into the valley to disorient them." Bedford clicked off the transmit button, grabbed his radio, and picked up his BAR. "Come on people, you heard me. Pop your smoke down there and let's get moving."

* * *

The valley was filling with blinding smoke, spreading from canisters thrown by the paratroopers.

Ryan slung a fragmentation grenade down to accompany the smoke and watched it arc down to land behind a tree, hearing multiple enemies yelling as their cover came to an explosive ruin.

Beside him, the machine gun fired one more long burst, before the gunner and loader took it from its tripod. The two Baker riflemen shot off a few more rounds each, then disengaged as well.

* * *

Suki heard the constant sound of what sounded like miniature explosions start to die down. She was hunkered down with her force on the base of Charlie Team's hill, watching the Fire Nation walk into a one-sided slaughter, cut down by a relentless barrage that Bedford's soldiers seemed to be able to harness.

Killing wasn't supposed to be so easy. She had been taught that combat was a test of skill, matching your strength with your enemies. Death was only to be applied when they had gotten the measure of their opponent. Each warrior was supposed to assess the situation and use the necessary force, as Kyoshi herself had once done.

Still, the Fire Nation had set out today to attack Kyoshi's people, to burn, kill, and conquer. The last time someone had tried to do that, Kyoshi had take the initiative and eliminated the threat. Maybe she would agree with what had happened today.

Colonel Bedford came into view, running downhill with five of his people in tow. Seeing the warriors, he stopped. "We've thrown their main body into confusion. I think the majority of them are dead, but there could be around fifty still scattered throughout the valley. My team's headed north to that hill." Bedford pointed. "The rest of my soldiers are currently engaging their reserve force."

Suki got to her feet and drew her sword. "We'll clean up the pass. Warriors, attack!"

* * *

"Stay low!" yelled a firebender sergeant, ducking behind a boulder.

 _Thwack!_ The impact of something fast and definitely aimed at the sergeant bounced off the front of his stone.

"Where are those damned catapults?" he yelled.

"No one to direct them!" a young officer called back. He was half-covered in snow and sand, lying beside the sergeant. "Zhang Min's dead!"

The sergeant looked behind him. There appeared to be no one left on the beach who was more senior than the man with him. "Sir, we have to do something! We're sitting turtle-ducks down here!"

"I'll direct the catapults!"

"Sir, it's suicide to go out there!"

"It's the only thing I can do. Give me the best cover you can. If I don't make it back for any reason, lead the troops towards the crest of that hill. The catapults should soften them up enough for you to take the high ground."

The sergeant turned. "Firebenders! Fire blasts towards that hill! Cover the lieutenant!"

He took one deep breath, jumped to his feet, and launched one of the largest jets of flame he'd ever attempted. Ten other blasts joined his. They were all too short, peppering the side of the hill, but they had attracted attention.

The sergeant felt something graze his face, and his hand came away with blood. The other firebenders weren't so lucky. He heard screams and the thud of bodies falling.

The officer had dropped his spear and helmet. He was sprinting towards the loading ramp of one of the ships docked in the bay. He was ten feet from safety when he felt his calf erupt in blazing pain. The lieutenant stumbled, falling down into the surf.

He had to make it...

Another projectile hit. He was thrown down into the water again by its force, left shoulder shattered. That arm just would not work for him anymore.

The lieutenant dragged himself along on two knees and an arm into the deepening water. His right hand grabbed the ramp, and he pulled himself onto it, grunting in pain. Two crewmen hauled him into the cargo hold.

"The catapults!" he gasped as he lay on the cold metal floor. "You have to... "

A loud rumbling noise from above them drowned out the rest of his sentence. It was the sound of four powerful engines droning overhead.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Apologies for a late upload. Turns out writing battle scenes takes a lot of work! (Though fun to do.)**

 **Just like last chapter, there's not much to note.**

 **Lieutenant (It's pronounced "left-tenant!") Sarah Ralston is an Auxiliary Territorial Service reservist and the deputy leader of the engineering company Swales cobbled together in Chapter Five. Like all members of the ATS, she never saw combat in the war, though they received some firearms training to serve as the last line of defense in case of a German invasion of England.**

 **Thank you all for reading! Reviews very welcome!**

 **Catch you all next time for Chapter Eight!**


	8. The Battle of Kyoshi Island (Part Two)

_North Beach_

The flight of Royal Air Force Hurricanes wheeled in from the west at three hundred feet, holding a loose formation as they came in low and fast.

"Bird Dog, this is Torch Flight. Ten minutes to station, over," their leader, Flight Lieutenant Mackenzie, said.

"Copy that, Torch. Your first target is a row of three enemy troop ships docked in the northern bay of the island. Be advised, they may be armed with antiaircraft-capable weapons on their foredecks."

"Torch copies. Out."

Mackenzie switched channels to talk to his pilots. "All right, gentlemen. We're splitting into elements. Russell, Farmer, break off and climb to five angels. Sutton and I will go in low and fast and give them a good strafe. You two come in high with your bombs. If we have to make a second pass, head east for ten miles and we will reverse roles."

Two of his four aircraft nosed up, gaining altitude. They would level off at five thousand feet. In turn, Mackenzie and his wingman, Sutton, dropped to two hundred feet over the sea, engines now at full power. The fighter-bombers they piloted had four twenty-millimeter automatic cannons and two five-hundred-pound bombs, plenty of firepower for any mission. But you could never be too sure with ships.

Through the windscreen, the island drew closer. Mackenzie could make out its hilly, forested terrain, covered in a blanket of white, powdery snow. It was almost like flying strike missions over the Ardennes again.

"Tallyho!" Sutton called out. There was an edge in the pilot's voice. It had been a long time since they'd hit targets of this size. "One o'clock low."

Mackenzie eased his stick forward, bringing the Hurricane into a gentle right bank to line up a run. Sutton mimicked the maneuver, and the two fighter-bombers closed in for the strike.

Their targets were now dead ahead, broadside to them. Three enemy ships, docked about a few hundred yards apart. They were shorter, but a little wider than a typical destroyer, painted a dull, dark grey. A red banner with a stylized depiction of a flame hung from each of their mainmasts.

Six hundred yards and closing. With his sharp eyes, Mackenzie spotted tiny figures running on the deck of the nearest ship, scrambling to man the row of enormous mechanical trebuchets. They were struggling to turn their weapons towards him.

The Fire Navy sailors were never going to make it. Mackenzie opened up at a range of three hundred yards, cannons thundering for a long burst. He kicked rudder to spread his fire over his target area, raking the troop ship with high explosive shells. The trebuchets took around twenty rounds and came apart, debris flying everywhere. Exploding shells and shrapnel ripped through anything exposed on deck, equipment and men alike. The first ship was a mess of shattered machines and dead bodies.

Mackenzie jinked up to avoid the mast and concentrated on the second ship, coming in at a sharper angle, adopting a curving dive to momentarily throw off the aim of any defender.

On the deck of the second ship, the arms of the row of enemy catapults swung forward. Fireballs arced up high, flashing wide of his canopy and leaving five smoke trails in their wake. Wherever they were shooting at him, it was on fire.

The flight lieutenant ignored it, tightening his grip on his control stick. He had his eyes firmly locked on an aiming point, a spot just aft of the superstructure, in between the two smokestacks. The engine had to be there, and so could the main fuel storage.

He centered the pipper of his gunsight right on target and fired again. His shells lanced through the deck, slamming into the coal bunker. Had the ship been oil-powered, the explosive rounds would've caused a huge explosion, ripping the ship in two. But since the troop ship used coal, it would die a slower death.

The shells caused small blast in the fuel bunker, spreading fine coal dust throughout the ship. All it took was one spark to set off the saturated air, and the battle quickly provided it. A firebender on deck launched a desperate bolt of flame at Mackenzie's wingman. It missed low.

Instantly the coal dust ignited. A wave of flame roared through the ship, starting belowdecks and spreading fast. The pressure punched a huge holes through the deck, allowing the blazing inferno to lick at the sky.

Mackenzie broke off, leading Sutton east. He glanced over his shoulder at the last ship in the line. It was still undamaged, but not for long. Russell and Farmer had completed their bomb runs, targeting two each at the ships either side of the one he and Sutton had set aflame.

Of the four bombs, three were direct hits. The first ship in the line was hit low on the right side. The five-hundred-pounder tore a hole where it struck, and the ship yawed to starboard, beginning to take on water.

The undamaged transport took two bombs amidships. They detonated deep inside, and it simply split in half. Debris flew everywhere, showering the sky with metal, wood, and flaming bits of coal.

"Bird Dog, this is Torch," Mackenzie said into his radio. "Targets neutralized."

* * *

The scattered Fire Nation troops in the valley had first felt relief. Those infernal weapons that had smashed their formations and picked them off like partridge-geese at a hunt had suddenly stopped killing them.

Then some realized what the smokescreen meant. They were about to be finished off from close range.

One of them yelled an order to regroup, but in the blinding smoke, the best they could do was to gather in knots of four to six men, all now nervously looking around themselves, looking for silhouettes or any sign of an ambush.

* * *

The Kyoshi Warriors had spread out now, working in teams of seven. They moved stealthily through the underbrush and snow, slipping into the treeline.

The smoke was starting to dissipate as the wind picked up, blowing it up and northward. Suki could now start to see human figures in small groups in the forest.

Closest to Suki's team of seven, which included Rena, Akiko, and Tsuya from her outpost detail, were five Fire soldiers. Three had spears, the other two wearing the masked helmets that denoted a firebender. They were just a few steps away when the last tendrils of smoke blew off, leaving the two groups looking right at each other.

A blast of fire went right for Suki. She raised her shield to block it, redirecting the flames into a tree, then rolled in on instinct just as the second firebender also launched a blast.

She felt the heat passing inches over her body. If she were only a little slower, she would've had a problem.

Suki came up from her roll right in front of the man who had almost burned her. With a deft flick of her foot, she swept the firebender's leg from its stance, throwing him off balance and sending him tumbling down.

Suki whirled around just as a soldier lunged with his spear. She dodged the strike, slashing downwards with her katana. The sharp steel cut the soldier's weapon in two, the spearpoint falling harmlessly to the ground.

A quick shield thrust knocked the rest of the spear from his hands, and Suki drove the hilt of her sword into his neck to finish him off. The soldier doubled over, grasping at his neck.

Our of the corner of her eye, Suki saw an enemy preparing to launch more fire at the four warriors currently fighting the two remaining spearmen. She turned to deal with him, only for Rena to give the firebender an unceremonious shove in the back, bouncing him against a tree.

The soldier Suki had tripped tried to rise, but was greeted by the point of a sword directed at his chest.

All five of the soldiers were quickly disarmed and tied up. Akiko and Tsuya pushed them along towards the village, with Suki, Rena, and the other three just behind.

Around them, they could still hear skirmishes. Suki hoped that most of her warriors had been as successful as her team was, but off to her left she could hear the clashing of steel and the roar of fireblasts.

"The way's blocked." Suki led them west to avoid the landslide which made the valley impassable to anyone but the best climber. The circuitous route took them around the base of a hill.

"That's a new one," Suki remarked to Rena as they trudged along. "I never demonstrated the proper shoving technique in training."

The young warrior hung her head. " I'm sorry, Suki. It's just...I didn't know what to do. He was right in front of me and I thought... "

"It worked, Rena. That's what matters. But remember, they're not always going to be unaware of you. You have to use..."

"Use their force against them, I know."

"You understand what I mean, then." Suki smacked her on the arm with a light punch, grinning. "Don't think too much about it. Instinct comes with practice. "

They had arrived at the village now. Koharu and her team were by Kyoshi's statue, holding three prisoners.

"How's it looking out there?" the petite brown-haired warrior asked Suki.

Suki looked over her shoulder. The sounds of battle were still raging in the forest. She could hear even louder blasts farther north. Bedford's men had somehow gotten their hands on larger explosives than the ones which had collapsed the cliff.

"There's still some fighting in the valley. We found these five and overpowered them, but there are still a few more in there. Bedford's currently taking on their reserve force. I think his men have them trapped."

"Huh," Koharu grunted. "What do you know? The guy was telling the truth after all."

"I had my doubts." Suki waved a hand towards the prisoners. "What do we do about them?"

"Don't worry. We'll keep them in order. Unless you want guard duty."

Suki slipped her fans from her belt. "No thanks. We're going back out there to finish them off."

* * *

"How many do you think are left down there?" Ryan asked. He was still holding the machine-gunner's carbine, scanning the beach for more targets.

"Can't be much more." Bedford had his binoculars out, counting how many bodies he could see on the sand. "At most a couple of squads."

"If you gave me Able and Baker, I could head down there and clean them out," Ryan offered. "Charlie could provide covering fire from up here."

Bedford snapped a new magazine into his weapon while talking. "I'll have air support put some bombs on them. The MG stays here with Carwell and Ralston. Give us covering fire on the way down. We'll clear the beach in three teams of four. We need to get into position right after the bombs hit."

He picked up his radio handset. "Bird Dog, this is Trumpeter. We still tally enemy infantry in cover on the beach. I need bombs right on top of them, over."

"We can give you only one more pass, Trumpeter. Our planes are reaching the fuel limit for them to RTB, over."

"Understood, Bird Dog. Out."

The Hurricanes delivered their payloads twenty seconds after Bedford called. Four bombs sailed in high from the west, pounding the rocks with an earth-shaking roar. Two more aircraft swept in low, raking the beach with cannon fire.

The flight re-formed, climbing and turning west for home. As they passed Bedford's hilltop, they waggled their wings in salute.

"Follow me!" Bedford was running down the hill in an instant. Three riflemen followed in behind. To the right, Ryan and Sergeant Barton led their men on towards the beach.

The machine gun on the hill opened up again, sweeping the rocks with tracers to keep enemy heads down and cover the assault group's advance.

There were now few of the tall boulders which had sheltered the enemy soldiers. The bombs had shredded them, leaving scattered bits of stone and at least ten bloodied bodies torn apart by the shrapnel. Only rubble piles and snowdrifts provided any kind of cover to hide behind.

Ryan brought his three men to within ten feet of a snow berm, moving fast and purposefully. The captain had gotten back his submachine gun from the .30 caliber crewman and held it low by his hip.

A helmeted head came up from behind the low berm. Ryan sidestepped, ducking left as fire roared past him. A spear flew, winging past one of the riflemen.

"Suppressing fire!" Ryan yelled.

He raised his Thompson and put five automatic rounds into the berm. His riflemen joined in, plastering the enemy's position with quick shots, kicking up small clouds of snow.

Ryan unhooked a grenade from his combat webbing. He pulled out the pin, released the lever, and let the fuse burn for a second. With a practiced arm, he lobbed it on a high arc.

The grenade landed behind the berm. A moment later, it exploded. Ryan was quickly behind it, moving left to flank the berm.

Four soldiers had been behind the snow pile. Two were immediately dead from the grenade. On seeing Ryan, one of the survivors charged at him with his spear.

Ryan pulled the trigger. Three casings ejected from the top of his Thompson, and the enemy soldier dropped in his tracks with a chestful of lead.

The last one was on the ground. The fragments from the grenade had given him the stomach wound he was currently clutching at. Blood was pooling underneath him, and the man was gasping, trying not to cry out in pain. His masked helmet had fallen off into the snow.

Ryan walked closer. The man wasn't young, probably a few years older than Bedford. He had three chevrons on his sleeve and a bloody streak on his right cheek from a rifle bullet's near miss.

"Surrender, old man," Ryan said to the prostrate soldier. "You're not going to make it unless we help you."

The Fire soldier stiffened. He pulled away his bloodied hand from the wound and twisted to look at Ryan. "No."

Despite the enormous pain he was in, the veteran sergeant straightened up. His expression hardened as he glared at the four men surrounding him.

His hand came up, and fire ignited at his fingertips. He prepared one last blast with a final, almost primal yell.

Ryan and two of his riflemen fired at the same time. Ten rounds struck the sergeant in a second, and the firebender lay splayed across the snow.

A paratrooper came over and placed the muzzle of his M1 rifle against the soldier's head.

Ryan put out his hand to stop him. "Hold it, trooper. The man's dead. Poor bastard didn't know when to quit. Let's keep moving."

Across the beach, Bedford waved, beckoning over Ryan and his team. They made their way over.

The assault group was complete. Sergeant Barton and his men were beside Bedford.

"The beach is clear," Bedford said. "Bombs must've wiped most of them out. How many did you get, Ryan?"

"Four, sir. Over by the waterline. They were in cover behind a berm."

"Barton and his people got three. So did my group. I think the MG and Pete Carwell got three or four total."

The sounds of battle were dying down, replaced by growing silence. It was amazing how quiet a battlefield was after the fighting. Animal life in the area had been scared away by the din, and the only sound besides the mutter of human speech was the tide hitting the sand.

"Come on," Bedford said. "Let's link up with the rest and head to the village. The warriors should be waiting for us."

* * *

 _Keum Village_

The Kyoshi Warriors were filtering back into the village in teams. They valley was clear. They had taken around thirty prisoners back with them.

As Suki helped Akiko drag three blindfolded Fire soldiers with them, she did a quick head count. Her shoulders slumped in relief. They had gone out with forty-five warriors and returned with the same number.

Their first real engagement had been a success. No losses, no casualties, and a complete defeat of the enemy force. But Suki still saw a problem.

Kyoshi had not been ready to win the battle. With their skills, the warriors would've slowed the enemy down, made them pay for every foot they advanced to give the islanders a chance to avoid the fate of the Air Nomads.

But without Bedford's help, there would be no more warriors in front of her. The Fire Nation had attacked with too many men to stop. Try as they might, the disciplined formations would've smashed straight through them.

It was a good thing, Suki reflected, that that she hadn't slashed the colonel's throat.

* * *

 _North Beach_

The squad was packed and ready to leave the northernmost hill. Barton led off, with Ryan taking up the rear.

As they left the hilltop, Bedford took one more glance at the seashore. On D-Day, his unit, along with the rest of the 82nd Airborne, had been dropped behind German lines. Consequently, he never saw what had happened during the landings on Omaha and Utah beach.

He'd heard stories, though. And today, he saw what it could've looked like.

When he finally turned his back to join the others, he left behind him devastation.

The three troop ships were still burning. The water they had been destroyed in was too shallow to cover the wreckage, so two of the the wrecks sat on the ocean floor, submerged almost to the railings.

There was nothing that remained of the enemy reserve force. Their corpses were strewn across the shore, dead from bombs, bullets, and cannon shells.

Bedford had seen enough. As he walked down the hill, he slung his BAR over his shoulder. He wouldn't need it again today.

The battle of Kyoshi Island was over.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **And here ends the first (but certainly not last) major engagement. Hella fun to write.**

 **I've got no notes for now, but I do have a question: Are any of my readers TV Tropes users? Drop me a line if you're a fellow troper.**

 **Reviews welcome! Thank you all so much for reading.**

 **Catch you next time for Chapter Nine!**


	9. Norden

_Keum Village_

Ryan took a deep, contented puff on a cigarette as the squad strolled towards the village. His thumb was hooked in his weapon's sling as he talked to one of the paratroopers.

"That's some good shooting, Private. Sawed through 'em like butter. I must've gotten about twenty, twenty-five of them. How many of the suckers did you kill with the thirty cal, do you think?"

"Honestly can't tell you, sir. I reckon quite a few."

"It was like hunting pigeons with a twelve-gauge," Ryan laughed. "Haven't had easier targets since basic. It's all 'cause of this fella."

The captain pulled Ralston closer with an arm across her shoulder, slapping her on the back with a grin. "Bringing down the cliffs was a fucking brilliant idea, ell-tee."

Ralston shot him a baleful look and slipped away from his grasp.

"Apologies for my subordinate, Lieutenant," Bedford said to her. "He does that to everyone."

The squad reached the arch which marked the village boundary. The warriors were waiting for them inside, gathered around the base of the statue of Kyoshi.

Inside the semicircle of warriors were thirty or so seated prisoners. They were blindfolded, legs and arms tied securely to stop any resistance, especially from the firebenders.

Suki and her team approached Bedford.

"We've eliminated their reserve force," he told the warrior. "Their landing ships have been destroyed as well."

"The warriors defeated the remnants of the enemy's main force," Suki responded. "These prisoners are all that's left of them."

"Then we've won. For now."

Suki balled her fist, pressing it against her palm. She bowed slightly, joined by the other six warriors with her. "I'm speaking for the rest of the island here. We must thank you for saving Kyoshi. Our people are in your debt."

"I offered an alliance. This is what allies do." Bedford inclined his head slightly to reciprocate the gesture. "The battle is over, but we still have to police the battlefield. Where will you keep your prisoners?"

"Shen Town. It's on the east side of the island, and our main port when the winter months are over. There's a small jail there for smugglers and pirates. Right now, it's empty. It'll be a tight fit, but we can house the prisoners there."

"I'll call for two platoons of reinforcements. They should be here by tomorrow. They can handle the dead. I'll see if we can do anything to hide the shipwrecks."

Bedford checked his watch as he reached for his radio. Time moved slowly during combat. It was only an hour past noon.

* * *

The _Langley_ rounded the island at twenty knots, heading for the northern bay. Engine power had only been restored after the battle had ended, so they were too late for any action.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway, by the looks of it. The RAF had given the enemy ships a good working over. Fires were still burning high on one of them. The other two were no longer burning, but were in worse shape structurally.

Towing was out of the question. The ships were only a little smaller than his own, and they'd need a lot more horsepower to pull one of them out of the mire of the ocean floor.

"Let's get as close as we can to the burning one," Henning ordered. "Prepare the firefighting gear."

The destroyer pulled up around a hundred feet from the line of troop ships, careful not to run aground. Sailors lined up on deck, hauling thick, heavy hoses built to withstand the high-pressure seawater pumped in for firefighting purposes.

Streams of water began to wash at the leaping flames, slowly replacing them with steam and smoke. Soon the fires were out, leaving behind a twisted, torn hulk drifting aimlessly, only held in place by its anchor.

Henning had worked in the Atlantic convoys during the war, keeping U-Boats and long-range Luftwaffe bombers away from the supply ships. Though he'd seen many a merchant go to the bottom ablaze and had felt the deep rumble of an enemy submarine hit by a torpedo, he'd never actually seen an enemy surface ship.

This one clearly hadn't been designed with air attack in mind. Bombs didn't cause its destruction, but precise aircraft cannon fire, fired from a high angle through the deck.

Henning made a mental note. This class of ship, one of the Fire Nation's most common, had a thin, lightly-armored deck. It would be good intelligence for later.

* * *

The villagers began to filter back into Keum. Unlike their evacuation, they were disorganized, travelling as individual families instead of orderly lines. Only two hours after the battle, the village was full again and as active as it had been on Bedford's arrival.

Apparently, word had gotten out about how the battle went. Bedford soon found a chain of flowers around his neck and a bottle of brownish liquid pressed into his hand. His men were surrounded by cheering villagers, being squashed by tight embraces and giggling civilian women.

"Hey, Colonel." Ryan called. He had two women in close attendance. One kissed him on the cheek as he took a slug from his bottle. "It's like Holland all over again! Good hooch, too."

"It's nice to be appreciated," Carwell said as he and Bedford evaded the crowd and found some breathing space on the east end of the village. "I never got to liberate a town. Is this what it's like?"

"Really? I thought the 2nd Rangers were involved at Brest?"

"I wasn't there. I was seconded to OSS a couple weeks after Pointe Du Hoc." Carwell felt around for his pack of smokes and lit up, gesturing with his cigarette. "Rest is history, my friend."

"Colonel Bedford?" It was Oyaji who shouldered his way through the crowd to get to him. "As you know, our village is grateful for your role in stopping its destruction. We are holding a feast in your honor tonight, and it would be a pleasure if you and your men would join us."

"Thank you for the invitation. We'll be happy to join you."

Carwell watched Oyaji bow and leave. "A feast, you say? The hospitality here is top notch. Is this how they welcomed you, Harry?"

"No. They tied me up and threatened to slit my throat if I didn't talk," Bedford said. "I don't like sharp things near my neck."

"Speaking from experience, I wouldn't, either." Carwell blew out a puff of smoke. "Blades are nasty little things."

"I blunted my knife once trying to open a C-Ration. Never used it since. My BAR doesn't have a bayonet lug, anyway."

Ryan, Ralston, and the squad of paratroopers finally managed to push through the swell of villagers, who were starting to disband. They stood around Bedford, awaiting orders.

"How much ammunition do we have left?" Bedford asked.

"Four boxes of thirty-ought-six, two of forty-five cal, and one box of thirty carbine, sir," Ryan reported, jerking a thumb at the stack of metal ammunition cases the paratroopers had stacked.

"Grenades?"

"Six, sir. I've got one left."

"Do you still have explosives, Ralston?"

The lieutenant shook her head. "No, Colonel. I used all of it on the cliff."

"Do you still have ammo for your rifle?"

Ralston fished around in her pouch and came up with only one more clip. "Five rounds, sir."

"Not good. Anyone have a spare carbine?"

"There's one by the ammo boxes," Ryan pointed out.

Bedford looked at one of his soldiers. "What's your name, trooper?"

"Private Laws, sir."

"All right, Laws. Fetch the carbine and hand it to Lieutenant Ralston. Show her the basics in its operation, since it differs significantly from the Lee-Enfield."

"Right away, sir." Laws soon came back over with the M1A1 Carbine and gave it to Ralston, along with six magazines.

"I want all of you to resupply on ammunition," Bedford went on. "Top off your mags and clips. After that I want watches of two each, rotating every three hours. Barton, you handle the particulars. Anyone not on watch, get some rest. Unwind. They might come back before more of our troops arrive."

* * *

It was well past nightfall, though, and it appeared that the Fire Nation had called it a day as well. Two watches had come, and no transmissions came from the reconnaissance aircraft to warn of enemy approach.

The villagers had pulled out all the stops for the feast, as Bedford found out. About a dozen tables had been combined into one long one, covered by a linen cloth. Piles of steaming rice, meat, vegetables, and bread, were stacked high on platters spread across the table. In the center, two massive grilled fish lay on banana tree leaves.

"That is..." Ryan licked his lips hungrily. "That's a lot of food."

"To be fair, we just saved the island from being razed to the ground," said Ralston.

"I'm not complaining."

The meal began. Bedford chewed slowly but surely through his generous servings, as Ryan wolfed down grilled elephant koi and fried pork-chicken with his bare hands beside him.

"Jesus, Ryan. Haven't you ever heard about utensils?"

"Sorry, sir." Ryan pushed rice into his mouth with a wooden spoon. "I was never too good with chopsticks."

Oyaji slid onto the bamboo bench across Bedford, plate in hand. "Are your men enjoying the meal, Colonel?"

"Yes. Your people know how to cook a good meal, sir."

As a young lieutenant straight out of West Point, Bedford's first job was as a general's aide in the Philippines. This food was as good as anything the expensive chefs of the Manila Hotel could produce.

"Please, call me Oyaji. Kyoshi Island was well known for its cuisine, in time of peace."

"Well, then, Oyaji. I'd like to start doing what I came to this island for in the first place. The terms my unit offers for an alliance are as follows..."

The village elder held up a hand to interrupt him. "If it were my choice, I would consider your terms right now. But I'm not the only authority on Kyoshi. The island's council makes the decisions which affect more than one village. I'm one of its members."

"I'll have to make my proposal in front of your council, then."

"There's a meeting tomorrow at noon. I'll endorse your presence."

"I've requested reinforcements from my superiors to help secure the island and clean up after the battle. I assume they'll be welcomed?"

"I hope the rest of the council doesn't think I'm acting precipitously," Oyaji replied. "But your soldiers may stay so long as I have any say in the matter."

"Thank you. Hopefully we can come to a similar agreement with the rest of the island tomorrow."

The elder pulled a platter of vegetables closer to refill his plate. "You know, the story you told me earlier about the war you fought was hard to believe."

"I can see why." Bedford shrugged. "If a man showed up in the world I came from and spun a tale about a century-long war fought by people who could manipulate elements, we'd think him insane."

Oyaji raised his eyebrows. "You mean to say there are no benders in your world?"

"If there were any, then very, very few. Two months ago, before we got here, I would've said that there were none at all. But considering how many similarities our worlds share, that there may be some truth in the old legends I've heard."

"There have been stories before, in this world," Oyaji said. "About people very much the same as anyone you can find here." The elder gestured around himself, towards the villagers feasting and making merry. "But they were from somewhere else, not from any of the four nations. So similar, yet so different to us. Almost as if they lived in another human world.

"You were about to explain how you got here," Oyaji continued. "The attack interrupted us. Would you do me the favor of finishing your story, Colonel?"

* * *

 _Two Months Prior_

 _October 4th, 1945_

 _Norden, Germany_

Bedford dragged Carwell into the command tent. Both were dripping wet from the rain, which was coming down in sheets. Thunder boomed outside.

In the warmth of shelter, the senior officers were eating lunch.

"Gentlemen," Bedford said, "allow me to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Peter Carwell. We were in the same class at West Point. He's come up here to Norden for a visit."

"Pleased to meet you all," Carwell drawled.

"Pete, these people are helping prepare this base for the 82nd's occupancy. We're sharing airfields with the RAF's 87 Fighter Wing."

Joachim von Weiss rose to shake Carwell's hand. "A friend of Colonel Bedford's, I see?"

"This is Major General von Weiss, " Bedford said. "He used to be a division commander."

" _103_ _Infanterie-Division_ ," von Weiss confirmed. "Now I and a battalion of my men are currently informal employees of the United States Army."

"The situation's that bad, huh?" Carwell asked. "I heard back down in Osnabruck that someone made a pretty big mistake here and shipped over a division's worth of supply with no one to manage it."

"A rare occurrence for your Army. American logistics are usually so efficient."

"So, General," said Carwell. "I'm sure I've seen your face before. Were you at Osnabruck when the war ended?"

"No, I was not. In fact, I haven't been there for seven years." von Weiss smiled ruefully. "The 103rd Infantry Division ended the war near Paderborn. We surrendered to elements of your 3rd Armored Division."

"Hold on..." Carwell's face brightened from its confusion, then immediately fell. He grimaced. "I know where I've seen you before, General. I served as a sharpshooter during the war. You were on my priority target list. I hope you're not offended by that, sir."

"Offended?" von Weiss laughed out loud. "No. On the contrary, I'm quite flattered that Allied intelligence thought I was that big of a threat."

Carwell recalled the OSS dossier. "Yes, General," he agreed. "They did."

"Anyway, Pete, these are the rest of our people for now. Brigadier Martin Swales is senior here until General Gavin arrives. The Royal Army kindly sent him to help with the current situation."

Bedford went around the table. "This is my battalion executive officer, Major John Borowski. He's the only other West Point man on my staff. Class of '38, I think."

A slim, bespectacled bespectacled officer stood. "That's correct, sir."

"At ease, men. Keep your seats if you want to." Bedford put a hand on the seat of the next person at the table, a small man with dark, curly hair. "My S-2. Captain Christopher Di Santo."

Last on the table was a man in his late thirties, wearing the navy blue uniform of the Royal Air Force. He walked over to Carwell to shake his hand with a firm grip. "Wing Commander Mark Bassett. I'm the commanding officer of 87 Fighter."

"Charmed," Carwell said.

"Go on, Pete." Bedford motioned towards the food on the table. "Get something to eat. We have plenty."

Carwell's response was cut short by a commotion from outside. Yells from the enlisted mess area reached the officers' ears. Clattering and crashing noises, the sound of the soldiers fleeing from something.

Bedford grabbed his weapon from the floor, bringing it up to his shoulder. "Everyone, get down!"

"What is it?" asked Swales. He had his revolver out. "Are we under attack?"

"I don't know, sir. Stay low." Bedford nudged his BAR through the tent flaps and poked his head out to have a look. "Oh, shit."

There was no attack. Bedford had figured that out almost immediately. There was no gunfire, no mortar shells falling or bombs exploding. But the men were running for good reason.

Out past Norden's harbor, a vortex of water and wind swirled on the North Sea. It reached far into the clouds, whipping furiously southwards. A tornado. It was headed right for them. Its course would bring it straight through the base, sucking everything it touched into a funnel of destruction. There was no avoiding it.

" _Mein Gott_ ," von Weiss muttered. He was frozen where he stood, looking over Bedford's shoulder. "It can't be. Not now."

"It's a tornado! Get out of here and find cover, you hear me?" Bedford turned towards the gathered officers, yelling to be heard above the howling wind. "Any kind of cover! Move it!"

The officers, jolted by Bedford's instructions, began filing out of the tent. Bedford grabbed Major Borowski's shoulder as he passed and pointed to the south end of the base, where the engineering company had been digging trenches and foxholes to fortify the airfield.

"Borowski! Take the senior officers and get to cover over there! Make sure you have Colonel Carwell with you!"

His executive officer nodded. He pulled Carwell by the arm and led the line of senior officers, fighting the wind as they struggled to walk south and towards safety.

Bedford flew out of the command tent, taking off in a sprint towards the men trying to outrun the tornado. His feet carried him right into the midst of what was almost a stampede.

Soldiers, American, German, and British alike, streamed past him at full speed, with only the thought of getting away on their minds. Bedford's shouts at them were lost in the gale or ignored.

He unslung his BAR, pointed it upwards, and fired a long burst into the air. That got their attention.

"Listen up, troopers!" Bedford yelled at the top of his lungs, just to be heard. "There's no outrunning a tornado! Get as many people as you can and find cover! Get in your holes and trenches! I need you all to spread the word!"

The men changed direction. Now they had orders, they reverted to being soldiers. More orderly groups formed up, each shepherding the others to safety.

Bedford kept running. There were more men to warn, more people that had to find some kind of protection against the winds.

The tornado was much closer now. It had swallowed the transports and destroyers still docked in the harbor, leaving no trace of their fate as the visibility decreased.

Bedford had stopped twice more to issue the same instructions to more of his troops, but the time had come to follow his own guidance and seek his own shelter. He turned on his heel to make his way back towards the airfield.

The sound of it was deafening. And it was very close. The tornado was only two hundred yards away.

Harry Bedford allowed himself an ironic smile. He had survived the bloodiest war in the history of mankind, fighting some of the best and most experienced enemies in the world. He had dodged death by mere inches on more occasions that he could count, and had two Purple Hearts to show for it.

Now, he was going to die. Not from the bullet of an enemy, but by the force of nature that had been the terror of everyone who lived in the Midwest.

Bedford had once thought that Tornado Alley was in his past. Apparently not.

The tornado reached him where he stood, and everything went dark.

* * *

 _October 5th, 1945_

Many things puzzled the military police on the clear October morning. A freak tornado didn't explain how there was nothing left of an entire base, while the town of Norden itself was untouched.

That was the word of the day. Nothing. There were no bodies, no debris, no destroyed buildings. There was also no airfield, docking facilities, or leftover equipment. All that was left were flat fields and clear beaches.

It was as if the base was never there.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I am very sorry for this late upload. It's been a terribly busy week for me.**

 **So, I was saying Norden's location was significant? Here you go. It's a coastal town in the former West Germany. It's also in Lower Saxony, which, you guessed it, will have more importance later.**

 **Yes, I know that Chicago isn't _technically_ in the Tornado Alley, but according to my research, it's quite prone to tornadoes, as is Germany.**

 **So, thanks for stopping by and reading! Reviews welcome!**

 **Catch you all next time for Chapter Ten!**


	10. Arrivals

_Keum Village, Kyoshi Island_

Due to a lack of sufficient space, the AEU team had been quartered by an apologetic Oyaji inside the Kyoshi Warriors' dojo at the south end of the village.

The paratroopers didn't mind. They had all lived through that horrible winter dug in on the Salm River in Belgium. Here, at least, there was a roof over their heads and a fireplace to warm them. Most of them laid out their bedrolls and fell asleep on the spot.

Bedford had tried to do the same, but after an hour or so of staring at the wooden beams which held up the roof, he gave up. He was just too worked up after the first fighting he'd been in for more than half a year.

It had been the same during his first few days in combat, two years ago, when the 82nd had jumped into Sicily for its first action of the war. The excitement stirred up by his first engagement had stayed with him for almost a week, keeping him up for several sleepless nights.

When it happened, Bedford knew the solution was to try and power through the insomnia. His position needed him to make crucial decisions, and fatigue would dull his judgement. He needed all the rest he could get. But right now, try as he might, he couldn't slip into unconsciousness.

With a short grunt, the colonel rolled out of his sleeping bag, knowing he would regret it tomorrow. Might as well do some thinking.

He pushed his feet into his boots and edged his way towards the exit, careful to avoid his sleeping men.

Bedford's slid the door open and stepped outside. The cold air blew away what lingering drowsiness remained. The snow was coming down lightly, muffling the sound of his steps and covering the landscape with a soft, white blanket.

His legs protested his decision to get out of bed, aching worse than anything he'd felt since the war ended.

Maybe it was his body telling him to swap out his bulky automatic rifle for a much lighter weapon, like an SMG or a carbine. A weapon that more suited his rank than the big Browning weapon usually carried by the tallest, heaviest infantryman in a squad.

Bedford dismissed the idea. He needed his BAR. It gave him firepower and versatility, and those qualities made it well worth the extra weight. Also, it impressed the men in his battalion. Few would complain about following him into battle when they saw that their CO carried the heaviest weapon.

The problem though, was that his legs didn't hurt like this ten years ago, even when he shouldered heavier loads.

It was age. Thirty-five was not old, by any standard. Bedford's own father had been a year older than that when he was born. But his legs didn't recover quite as fast as when he was twenty-five.

One day, Bedford knew, he'd have to hand in the BAR and the grenades, to accept the carbine and his own radioman. To stand back and let the younger men do the fighting. But as long as he could keep up, he would still be in the midst of the fray.

Superiors be damned. He was meant to stand with his men, leading from the front. It had worked with Fox Company at the start in Sicily, and it had worked with 2nd Battalion in the end in Germany.

Bedford's stroll had taken him about halfway through the village. From there he could see the glow of a campfire just past the arch. On closer inspection, Bedford recognized the three people sitting by the flame.

Peter Carwell sat on a log, squinting as he worked at a small black notebook in the firelight. Ryan and Ralston were across him. The captain cleaned his pistol, while the engineer was hunched, knees drawn up to her chest, as she stared northwards.

Bedford followed her gaze. She was looking at the giant pile of rock and snow which her explosives had created in the valley.

Carwell looked up from his notebook. "Another insomniac joining us, I see?"

"What are you all doing up?"

"Too excited, Colonel." Ryan finished putting his .45 back together and returned it to its holster. "First good fight I've had in a long time. No way I'm sleeping after that, sir."

"How 'bout you, Pete?"

"Writing. I've got a journal of sorts. For kills."

Bedford sat down on a rock. "Kills?"

Carwell's eyes met his. "Do you know how many people you've killed, Harry?"

"I've got no idea. None at all."

"For me, the tally's a hundred and thirty-eight. Twenty-three of them today. Here, take a look." The Ranger handed over his notebook.

Bedford opened it to a random page.

 _December 11, 1945_ , it read in Carwell's neat cursive. _Kyoshi Island._

 _116: Probable senior Fire Nation officer. One shot to head._

 _117: Possible FN officer's aide. Single shot to torso._

 _118: FN NCO. Two shots, one to stomach, second to neck._

"Jesus," Bedford muttered. "You've documented all your kills?"

"Every single one. From Normandy to here."

"Why?"

Carwell wasn't looking at Bedford. He gazed into the fire, watching the wood crackle in the heat. His voice was low and grave.

"So I don't forget."

* * *

 _December 12_

Bedford clutched his tin mug of instant coffee as he watched his men work. He had finally dropped off to sleep at around four in the morning, only to be woken up at half-past eight because the warriors needed to use the dojo.

The two platoons he'd called HQ for had arrived in two troop transports at around 1000 hours. One was comprised of forty auxiliary engineers with heavy equipment. They had rolled their bulldozers and excavators across the island and began work on clearing the valley of rubble and dealing with the bodies.

The other unit was a weapons platoon from one of 2nd Battalion's companies. There were thirty more paratroopers, complete with a mortar team and a .50 caliber heavy machine gun.

Bedford had left Ryan to organize the paratroopers and was now standing at the south end of the valley, watching the engineers work.

They were surprisingly efficient for inexperienced auxiliaries. Their bulldozers cleared a path through the landslide, allowing the other engineers to begin recovering the bodies.

Twenty of them worked in pairs, wearing thick gloves and gas masks. They searched each body they found, stripping them of armor, weapons, and any personal effects, which were now being stacked in an ever-growing pile. Once this was done, the corpse was zipped into a black body bag and laid out in a row to be buried.

Ralston and another engineer operated the two excavators, leading a detail of eighteen auxiliaries using shovels, jackhammers, and pickaxes to dig a large ditch where the beach met the northern forest.

It was going to be a long job. A mass grave large enough to fit the three hundred fifty or so enemy soldiers would take some effort to construct and wouldn't be ready for another day or so.

Bedford downed the last of his coffee. It wasn't very good, but at least it would keep him awake for the council meeting.

Noon was fast approaching, and Bedford began the walk back to the village. The meeting would be held at Oyaji's hut.

He'd left his main weapon with Ryan. His only weapon was his pistol at his right hip, there mainly for ceremonial reasons, though he had two extra magazines. Just in case.

* * *

Suki met him by the arch as he walked back into the village. "Meeting's about to start, Colonel Bedford."

"I'm headed there right now."

"Might as well go there with you." She slowed to match his stride.

"Can you tell me more about the council?"

"Six full members, one for each settlement on the island. They're elected yearly by their own villages. Oyaji's been chairman for a long time now. The council meets every two weeks, or on request of the chairman for major issues. Decisions are made by majority vote."

"And you?"

"As the commander of the Kyoshi Warriors, I get a place at the table. I'm not a full member, though." Suki made a face. "I only get to vote in case of a tie."

"Your government seems very democratic."

"Avatar Kyoshi never liked the idea of kings and queens. The last one she met, she threw off a cliff." Suki grinned maliciously.

"That was Chin the Conqueror, wasn't it?"

"For someone from a different world, you sure know your history."

"I did my research before coming here."

They arrived at the entrance of Oyaji's home. Bedford ducked under the doorway to follow the warrior inside.

"We are complete." Oyaji's voice. "Let us begin."

The elder of Keum Village sat cross-legged at the head of the table. Five other representatives, three men and two women, sat on either side. They were all between the ages of forty and sixty, wearing the same blue robes common on the island.

Bedford took the place at the end of the table. The council members, with the exception of Oyaji and Suki, stared at him with deep interest.

"This is Colonel Bedford. He and his men fought hard yesterday to keep this island from Fire Nation hands. He comes from another world than the one we live in."

"Another world?" A woman in her forties, the representative from Shen Town, leaned closer. "Is it true?"

"I've heard his account, Liang," Oyaji replied. "Surely you've heard the stories of the lost ones?"

"Aren't they but legends, tales shrouded in myth and time?"

"At first I thought so. But Colonel Bedford's story seems to confirm them." Oyaji looked at him. "Please, Colonel. Tell the council the story you told me yesterday. From the beginning."

* * *

 _Two Months Prior_

 _October 5th_

 _1125 Hours, Grid Square 10WYC231426_

 _Laghima Island_

Harry Bedford awoke facing the sky, looking up at the gray clouds which shrouded the sun.

The storm was gone, and he was alive. Those possibilities had both seemed unlikely when he was last conscious.

He broke into a laugh, curled up on the ground. He was at it for a while, until his sides hurt and his breath was spent.

An addition to the list of things he'd survived. First a German potato masher in Salerno, then two rounds from an MP40 in the Ardenne, and now a tornado.

A glance to his right stopped Bedford's laughter. The familiar silhouette of the town of Norden was gone. A quick scan of his surroundings told him that he wasn't just looking in the wrong direction.

There was no town to the east. Just empty grassland bordering on the coastline.

Bedford looked left. The dock was right there where it had always been. The line of transports and destroyers was still there, as if the tornado had never touched them at all.

"What the...?" Bedford staggered to his feet, slinging his weapon automatically. His first steps were shaky. How long had he been out?

The airfield was just ahead. It showed no signs of any damage, even through the tornado had run straight through it.

Bedford's boots clattered against the paved concrete of the landing strip. From here he could see the parked rows of Royal Air Force fighter-bombers and transport aircraft, neatly lined up, prepared to scramble just as Wing Commander Bassett had ordered.

There were no signs of damage. The aircraft were even dry from the rain which had poured down...yesterday?

Around him, Bedford began to see the soldiers and airmen who populated the base stumbling around confusedly. They looked just as disoriented as he was.

"Colonel Bedford, is that you?" A voice asked.

Bedford turned. The speaker was a young man who wore the bars of a lieutenant and had an M1 rifle slung.

"Yes. And you are Lieutenant...?"

"Davids, sir. Bob Davids."

Bedford recalled the name. Davids was a replacement platoon leader from Fox Company who had come in just before Market Garden.

"Sir, what exactly just happened?"

"I'm still working on that, Davids," Bedford answered. "Look, here's what I want you to do. Get your platoon together. I want the entire battalion gathered on the airstrip in exactly thirty minutes. Spread the word."

* * *

 _1235 hours_

"Private Alan Willis!"

"Present and correct!"

"Corporal Patrick Zenden!"

"Present and correct!"

Captain Hampton rolled up his roster of his troops. "Sir, Dog Company is all present and correct."

Bedford surveyed the battalion in front of him. All in all, five hundred and twenty-four paratroopers across three companies, plus battalion staff and clerks. 2nd Battalion was complete, though he didn't know how.

"I want the troops in a defensive perimeter around the airfield. Set up our mortars on the east end of the line."

Bedford didn't have to tell them to be alert. Wherever the hell they were, it was new territory, he was sure if it.

If so much as a rabbit moved out beyond their positions, all his men were jumpy enough to fill it with lead.

* * *

"Your soldiers, Colonel Bedford." It was Liang speaking. "They are elite infantrymen?"

"Yes, ma'am. I command specially-trained soldiers called paratroopers, from my army's 82nd Airborne Division."

"I have heard of infantry units, cavalry units, and naval units. Their names are self-explanatory. What is an airborne division trained for?"

"Ma'am, our mission is to be inserted deep into enemy territory. To capture and hold key assets such as fortresses, bridges, and crossroads until reinforcements arrive. We're trained to fight heavily outnumbered and completely surrounded."

"Have you successfully carried out any operations of the sort?"

"We have. Once, there was a town called Sainte-Mere-Eglise..."

* * *

 _October 5th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1450 hours_

The EC-47 communications aircraft rolled to a halt as it finished taxiing to its designated space. Its fighter escort, a Hurricane, had also landed and was making its way back to the fighter line.

The Shepherd's engines whirled to a stop. Ground crew circled the aircraft, putting chocks on the wheels.

The loading door dropped open, and the crewmen stepped out, stripping off their leather helmets and oxygen masks as they came. One of them, the copilot, handed his camera off for the film to be developed.

It was time for the debriefing. The five crewmen entered their wing commander's Nissen hut as ordered.

Two were waiting for them in the little metal building with a curved roof, making it a tight fit.

"At ease, gentlemen," Wing Commander Bassett said. "Tell me, what did you see up there?"

"Sir, we seem to be on a small island. None of our maps can show us where we are."

"Is there any sign of a continental landmass?" Bedford asked.

"No, sir." The pilot shook his head. "We're on the northernmost island of an island chain. Our navigator made a quick sketch of the area. Collins, please show them."

Collins, the navigator, laid a sheaf of papers on Bassett's table. It was a hastily-done pencil sketch of an archipelago with four islands. "Sorry, sir. This will have to do until the photographs are developed."

Collins placed his finger on the biggest island in the chain, shaped somewhat like a ham bone, with the longer side running north-to-south. A mark had been drawn on the northeastern tip. "This is where we are right now. The airfield, docking facilities, and battalion headquarters are clustered here."

"How about the rest of the island?"

"Total area of the island is around forty square kilometers, ten long and four wide. It's mostly forested. There's a range of low hills stretching from the middle of the island to the southwest coast." Collins shaded the area in question. "Most of the land is flat, though."

"How about habitation? Is anyone on this island with us?"

"That's the strange thing, sir." Collins used his pencil to point out more marks. There were four of them, one north, another around the center off the island, and the other two in the south. "These represent clearings in the forest, which we saw from above. In those clearings, there are gatherings of man-made structures. Houses, huts, that kind of thing. Clearly someone has settled here before us, sir. But whoever they were, they're not here anymore. The structures are damaged, and there are no signs of human life in the island."

"Thank you. That's all I need for the moment," said Bedford. "I'll have those photographs by what time, exactly?"

"A few more hours for them to develop," Bassett responded. "They'll be ready by nineteen-hundred hours, Colonel."

* * *

"I trust Oyaji's judgement," said Councilman Jang as he stroked his beard. "And since he believes in the veracity of your story, then I am inclined to do so myself. It must have been a horrible war you fought, Colonel."

"It had to be done, sir. Too many people died not to see it through." Bedford leaned forward. "To tell this council the truth, ladies and gentlemen, it's the same with this war. It has to be fought. And we must be the victors."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Yes, its a late update. And for that, I am sorry.**

 **We're still to really get into the crux of the plot yet. I'll be working on that in the next few chapters.**

 **Couple things to note:**

 **I was going to research how deep and wide a mass grave should be to fit 300+ people. Then I realized that after hours of researching dozens of weapons and explosives, the FBI might be getting a _little_ suspicious. So, I said "To hell with it". **

**The town of Sainte-Mere-Eglise mentioned by Bedford was a crucial location during the invasion of Normandy. If the Allies had possession of it, they could block any possible German counterattack against the Omaha and Utah beaches.**

 **So, the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne was tasked with taking it, and despite heavy casualties, they successfully assaulted and held the town.**

 **Thank you for reading. Comments and reviews are very welcome!**

 **Catch you all next time for Chapter Eleven!**


	11. Laghima Island

_October 6th_

 _0730 hours, Grid Square 10WYC231426_

 _Laghima Island_

"How is the situation out on the line?" asked Bedford.

"We're holding up well, sir," Ryan replied. He had been summoned to the command tent to receive new orders from Bedford. "Though it's a bit tense out there. They don't know what's beyond the perimeter. Sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah?"

"We're not in Germany anymore, are we?"

"No." Bedford handed Ryan a rolled-up map. "That's where we are now. Bassett sent up some aerial recon yesterday. Our RAF friends got together this map from the photos. It should be pretty accurate."

Ryan flattened it out, studying it intently. He puffed out a deep breath. "How the hell did we get here?"

"The RAF says this place is uninhabited. I want to make sure. Take Fox Company out on patrol." Bedford indicated the abandoned hamlets on the map. "Concentrate your search around these areas. If there's anything alive except us, let me know."

"Is there any sort of time pressure on this op, sir?"

"I want your company back here by sunset."

"Yes, sir. Fox will be on the move in twenty minutes."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

"So your main force is based where, exactly?" Councilman Jang wanted to know.

"That's information I cannot divulge, sir. If there's one leak, if the Fire Nation gets a single idea where we are, even the Allied Expeditionary Unit can't take on their entire army."

"I trust everyone on this council, Colonel," Oyaji said. "We each consider ourselves the successors of Avatar Kyoshi in governing this island, and we have each sworn to protect it."

"I have no doubts about this council's loyalty and integrity, but there are some things that the safety of my men and the success of our enterprise depend on, and one of them is secrecy." Bedford looked each council member in the eye. "I don't want to offend anyone here, but our intervention yesterday was a large risk to take. The location of our headquarters is, frankly, irrelevant to the discussion."

"It's all right, Colonel," Councilwoman Liang said. "I can understand that you wish to protect your soldiers. Why do you want to know, Jang?"

"Colonel Bedford is clearly well-informed about how our world works. I'm simply wondering how he obtained such detailed information. Perhaps his men discovered the hidden library of the great spirit Wan Shi Tong?"

 _Close,_ Bedford thought. _But no cigar._

"Councilman, let us simply say that I did my research."

* * *

 _October 6th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _0837 hours_

"Looks abandoned to me, Captain," said Company First Sergeant Turner.

"Let's move in and check it out," Ryan answered. "First and second platoons on me. Davids, keep third platoon in position here and make sure nothing comes out of these woods towards us."

Fox Company advanced slowly through the trees towards the ruined hamlet, spread out loosely. Every paratrooper had his weapon shouldered and ready for any action.

The clearing was roughly semicircular. The grass on the ground was overgrown, up to the top of Ryan's boots, but they forced their way through it and to the buildings.

It was barely a village, just a handful of little huts, made of bamboo and woven leaves. Fifteen or sixteen structures in total, most lying in pieces from age. It had been a long time since they were used.

A splash of orange attracted Ryan's attention. It was in the grass, fifteen feet away, near the center of the hamlet. He approached it, Thompson pointed down at the object.

It was a skeleton. Its skull leered up at him, jaw opened and teeth bared. The body was clothed in an orange tunic over faded yellow robes, which were torn and slashed down the front by what seemed to be something sharp. A dark brown stain was spread across the tunic, the sign of blood that had dried many, many years ago.

"Hey, sarge, look. A dead one."

Sergeant Turner came up to have a look for himself. "Poor son of a bitch. Looks like he got a bayonet through the chest."

"Must've been ages ago. Wonder if whoever did it trashed the village too?"

The ruined huts weren't just damaged by neglect. On closer examination, scorch marks could be seen staining the collapsed bamboo poles, fallen thatch roofs were in piles of ash, and various burned debris were scattered around. There had been a fire here, deliberate or not.

Ryan entered a hut on his left, kicking aside fallen bamboo and thatch to uncover two more skeletal bodies, then looked back at his company.

"Search the houses," he ordered.

The majority of the ruins were empty of people. There were some scraps of human belongings which remained, such as leftover clothes, shattered clay pots, and fishing nets, all seared and burnt by the fire which had destroyed the settlement.

Five of the huts, though had corpses. All the bones found had now been laid out in the center of the hamlet. There were ten complete skeletons in all, some adult-sized, but two of them were suspiciously small. Children.

Ryan slowly walked up to the last building, at the far end of the row of huts. It had been a much larher, more permanent structure than the huts surrounding it, constructed of hefty wooden beams instead of bamboo. The flames had not spared it, though, and its roof and one of its walls had collapsed.

It had a solid door which had remained mostly intact. A boulder had been rolled in front of it to hold the door in place and keep it from swinging open.

"Sarge, I'm going to need help to shift some of that wood," Ryan told Turner.

"Reid, Jacobsen, get over here!" the company first sergeant called out. "The Captain needs you."

With the help of two privates, they shoved aside part of the wall to gain access to the inside.

 _Crunch._ Ryan's boot stepped on something brittle, though he couldn't see well until his eyes adjusted to the dark.

The structure had only one room. It probably had been some kind of meeting hall or classroom for the village's children.

"Jesus Christ," Turner muttered.

The floor was covered in skeletons. Blackened, charred human skulls, ribcages, and other assorted bones strewn about.

Ryan looked down at his boots. A skull had fragmented when he had blindly stepped on it, the pieces now scattered underfoot.

That was the meaning of the boulder by the door. Somebody had come with the intention of destroying the village.

It wasn't hard to believe that whoever the attackers had been, they had killed the man in the orange robes and nine other villagers, herded the rest in here, barricaded the door to prevent escape, and set the building on fire.

It was impossible to tell how many people had died here. There were just too many remains jumbled up in the mess.

This had been a village of fifty to seventy civilians, wiped out by an atrocity which had taken place decades ago.

"Come on." Ryan stepped over a fallen plank and signalled to his company. "Pack it up, troops. Let's get moving."

* * *

The senior officers had undertaken a quick accounting. Everything which had been on base at the time of the storm had come with them.

There was no time to find an explanation for that. By now, no matter how strange the answer was, they wouldn't be surprised by it. The officers contended themselves with tallying the resources they had.

Around a thousand ground troops were on the base. Two battalions accounted for most of these, the American paratroopers under Bedford and the former Wehrmacht soldiers which von Weiss had brought to Norden. The other troops were from two British companies, the auxiliary engineers from Dover and a military police unit which had originally been assigned to guard the airfield.

Their motor pool was meager. A handful of Willys jeeps and Morris trucks for transporting supplies, two unarmored bulldozers and two excavators owned by the engineers.

The flying contingent, meanwhile, was sizeable, made up mostly by RAF servicemen. 87 Fighter had been designated a ground attack wing, and was outfitted with eighty fighter-bombers, Typhoons and Hurricanes, as well as a ten-aircraft fleet of the new EC-47 Shepherd. These were to be serviced, armed, and maintained by a legion of mechanics, machinists, and ordnancemen.

To add to this were forty-five C-47 Skytrain transports. They were the paratroopers' one-way ticket to battle, and there were enough to carry the whole battalion to its drop zone. Experienced Army pilots were in charge of each aircraft.

Finally, the naval complement. Three US Navy destroyers were docked in the harbor, _Langley_ , _William_ _Gardner_ , and _Edward S. Martin._ With them were seven LST transports w"hich had been caught in the storm.

The total count of personnel was three thousand, three hundred seventy-six soldiers, sailors, and airmen. A considerable force. But for what?

* * *

 _1448 hours_

"What the hell is this?" Lieutenant Davids used the barrel of his rifle to pick up a strangely-shaped metal object. It was a steel helmet, painted red and black. Sharpened horns stuck out on either side of it, and a white visor hinged down from the brim to protect the user's face.

Ryan's head poked over Davids' shoulder. "Nice artefact you've got there, Ell-tee."

Fox Company was at the third settlement of the four on the map, around four miles southwest of the airfield. It was little different from the last two, the same pattern of wrecked houses, ruined personal effects, and abandoned skeletons clad in yellow and orange.

As the troopers dutifully went from hut to hut, Ryan examined the perimeter of the hamlet. Now, there was one thing this settlement didn't share with the other two: bodies wearing armor. He saw of them, lying about ten feet apart from each other.

One was bare-headed, revealing a bleached white skull still frozen in agony. The skeleton was wearing dark red metal plate, with sharp black spikes jutting upwards from each armored shoulder. The helmet on the head of one of his fallen comrades matched the one Davids had found earlier.

"Looks like we found the cause of this mess," Ryan remarked to Turner, pointing at the bodies.

"Appears the sons of bitches got what was coming," Turner grumbled.

"And this one gave it to them?" Ryan stood over more remains, not far from the three armored corpses.

The person it had belonged to had once been tall, over six feet, similar in dress to the former occupants of the island, but in one long orange robe rather than a mix of yellow and orange. A string of beads hung on the skeleton's neck.

To the south, one of Ryan's platoon leaders waved the all-clear. There were no signs of current human life. It was time to move to the last village.

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

"Tell me, Colonel. What do you want of us?"

"I have been authorized to offer the following deal to this island's leaders." Bedford found his notes and placed them in front of him. "Firstly, we're offering to arm the Kyoshi Warriors with our weapons and train them in their use."

"That's not the council's decision to make," Oyaji said. "The commander of the Kyoshi Warriors is free to make any decision regarding the tactics of her group."

"Interesting," Suki said. "I've seen these weapons in use. You're saying you'll show us how to operate them?"

"Yes. And we'll supply you those weapons as well. Shall we move on to the other terms? We can discuss them once I've enumerated all points.

"Second term. We will leave two platoons of our troops on this island for the duration of eight months, to help safeguard its independence. Finally, we will provide you with the means to call on the resources of the Allied Expeditionary Unit if any more help is needed."

"Why only eight months?" Liang asked.

"Trust me, ma'am. In eight month's time, if you accept our deal, Kyoshi Island will be the least of the Fire Nation's worries."

"What will we have to give in exchange for your assistance?" Oyaji inquired.

"We need operational control over the Kyoshi Warriors. They are crucial in our plans to end this war, and they'll need to leave this island behind to do it."

Silence struck the council. They shared looks with each other uneasily, as if this had been discussed before. Suki looked vaguely triumphant.

"You know what you are asking, Colonel?" Oyaji pressed. "The warriors have been our first and only line of defense for over three hundred years. You want them to leave this island and have them fight a battle far from home?"

"Yes. For the good of all, including the people of this island. A continuing war benefits none."

"And with all your resources, and all your weapons, you cannot defeat the Fire Nation yourselves?"

"The skills of your warriors would be a vital asset to our cause, sir," Bedford replied.

Oyaji caught the eyes of his fellow council members, then settled his gaze on him. "The council must deliberate. We will have our answer for you within two hours. In the meanwhile, enjoy our hospitality. Our people have laid out the midday meal for you."

* * *

 _October 6th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1517 hours_

Ryan saw the plume of smoke spewing up to the sky over the treetops and dropped to his belly, signalling for the rest of his company to follow.

Sergeant Turner followed the gray smoke with his eyes. "Cooking fire, Captain."

"Figured it that way, Sarge." Ryan peered over the berm they had taken cover behind, then ducked back down. "Get together a squad. We're going to do a little recon."

"Garcia!" Turner murmured. "Take your squad and follow Captain Ryan."

"Rest of you stay here. We'll be back shortly."

Ryan crawled over the top of the berm on his elbows and knees, weapon clutched in his arms. Turner, Garcia, and his squad were behind him.

The group of fifteen picked their way through the trees until the edge of the clearing, where they could see into the fourth and final settlement. Ryan swept the area with his lenses.

There. He'd found the source of the smoke. At the end of the familiar rows of charred wood and thatch, a single, intact hut sat. Through a chimney, the evidence of someone cooking was sent up.

Live ones. They had built a nice house for themselves, a structure more like the sturdy common building he'd found in the first village they'd visited rather than the improvised shelters most of the people living here had once used.

Ryan signalled to the squad to return. When they got back to the company's position, he dropped behind the berm.

"There's people out there. One house of them, I'm sure of that. Could be more. First platoon, sweep the village perimeter. Make sure there's no one else for a quarter-mile radius. Second and third platoon, clear the village."

"How about the occupied house, sir?" Lieutenant Davids asked.

"I'll take Garcia's squad and knock on his door. They're probably civvies, but let's make sure. Move out!"

First platoon flanked to the right of the hamlet. The rest followed Ryan, now moving rapidly to get in tight to the buildings. The paratroopers broke up into smaller groups to clear each structure.

Ryan continued down the center of the village, arriving at the door of the occupied house. Turner and Garcia's squad covered him as he banged on the wooden door with the stock of his weapon.

"You're surrounded!" Ryan yelled, retreating a few steps to join his men. "Come out one at a time!"

Fifteen weapons were pointed at the house, including a trooper with a rifle grenade affixed to the muzzle of his M1. If the occupants pulled any funny moves, they could inundate their home with firepower.

It didn't come to that, though. The front door slid open, and people started to emerge from inside. There were five of them.

A middle-aged man supported a wizened old woman as they stepped down from the entrance. A younger woman held two children, neither older than ten, close to her side. They all wore yellow and orange robes, almost exact copies of the clothes the now-dead islanders had once owned.

"They're back for us!" the old woman croaked. "The Fire Nation is here to finish their butchers' work!"

The man stepped in front of his family. Tears ran down his cheeks as he flung his arms wide in an attempt to shield them from the soldiers. Behind him, the two children tried to hide behind their mother.

"Sir, please don't harm them," the man begged.

"Are you carrying a weapon?" Ryan inquired.

"What?" The man sniffled.

"Do you own a gun, or a sword, or a spear, or a bow? A weapon?"

"An... an axe." The man wiped his eyes and stared confusedly. "For chopping firewood."

"They look like civilians to me, Captain," Turner said.

"Look, fella." Ryan lowered his weapon, and the rest of his men followed suit. "We're not here to kill you. We're not those Fire Nation people, or whoever the hell wiped out everyone else on this island."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Captain Ryan, 82nd Airborne Division of the United States Army."

His words seemed to have no meaning to the man, who remained speechless.

"All right," Ryan continued. "Let's start by telling me who you are and where exactly this place is."

The stranger took a deep breath. "My name is Wuhan." He gestured behind him. "This is my wife, Irisa, and her mother, Misoka."

Wuhan put his hand on the shoulder of one of his children. "This is my son, Chun, and my daughter, Yori."

His eyes bore into Ryan's. "We are the last survivors of the massacre of Laghima Island."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Oh, look, a chapter that's actually done in a week! I had a lot of this chapter already written in my head, so it was just the matter of getting mental images to translate onto paper.**

 **I had to make a few edits concerning a few continuity errors in the past. Chief among them was the fact that Ryan is the CO of Fox Company, not Dog Company (that's Capt. Hampton). I edited Chapters 4 and 10 to fit this.**

 **Also, I screwed up the name "Laghima" last chapter, and only caught it when I read someone else's fanfiction. Changed that one too, I _think_ it's the right spelling now ("Lahigma" sounds like a type of arthritis). **

**And, yes, the island is named after the Air Nomad guru whose name is mentioned as Zaheer's spiritual inspiration in S3 of Legend of Korra.**

 **So that about wraps it up. Thanks for reading, please comment and review if you feel like doing so, and stay tuned for Chapter Twelve!**


	12. The Lost Legion

_Keum Village_

 _12th December, 1437 hours_

Bedford left the long mess line with a tin pan of piping stew and made for the officers' table by the statue of Kyoshi.

Most of the AEU troops were taking a break from burying corpses or positioning weapons to enjoy the local food, with the exception of the squad on the current lookout shift. They would have to content themselves with canned rations.

Waiting for him at the table was Carwell, who was stubbing out a cigarette with a makeshift ashtray.

"How'd the meeting pan out?" the Ranger asked.

"They're considering it. They want me back there in about an hour and a half for their decision. You?"

Bedford had asked Carwell to mingle with the locals, to befriend them and get a sense of their feelings. He'd spent all morning and some of the afternoon among them.

"They don't like the idea of war." Carwell spooned stew into his mouth before going on. "They've stayed out of it for almost a century."

"Pretty isolationist, I hear."

"That's about the size of it. One of the men from this village was bragging to me that Kyoshi Island is completely self-sufficient and they only trade with the Earth Kingdom mainland for luxury goods. They don't want to throw that all away for a war they never considered was theirs anyway."

"They've got no choice," Bedford replied. "The first battle on Kyoshi soil was fought yesterday. It won't be the last, unless they take our deal. The Fire Nation will eventually learn that their invasion force was wiped out. And they'll be back."

* * *

 _October 6th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1538 hours_

"Hold on a second." Ryan brought up his hand to interrupt Wuhan. "You're saying that soldiers who can _shoot fire out of their bare hands_ invaded this place a hundred years ago?"

Wuhan looked perplexed at Ryan's reaction. "That is the definition of firebending, is it not?"

"And they attacked...why?"

"To eliminate everyone here and wipe out the small number of airbenders who lived here."

"Let me guess. Airbenders can blow wind out of their fists."

"Well, yes."

Ryan snorted. "I don't believe this." He waved over a radioman. "Get me HQ."

Lieutenant Michelson came up to Ryan, first platoon in tow.

"Sir. We've swept the area like you said. No one else is here with us."

"Did you find any more bodies?"

"We found a grave site, sir. Seven burial mounds. And a garden about a hundred yards from here with vegetables growing in it."

"The graves are my family's ancestors," Wuhan said. "And the vegetables are mine."

"Who carved the writing on the grave markers?" Michelson asked him.

"My father did. And when he died, I took his place."

"So you write in Chinese and talk in English?"

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Wait, what?"

"The inscriptions on the gravestones are in Chinese, sir. I'm from Manhattan. I used to live two blocks from Chinatown."

Ryan looked at Wuhan. "You speak Chinese?"

"No, Captain. I speak and write in the only language I know."

"And that is?"

"The common tongue has been spoken all over the world for over a thousand years, ever since Avatar Li Han."

"Sir, HQ on the line," the radioman told Ryan, giving him the handset.

"Headquarters, this is Fox Six."

"This is Colonel Bedford. Go on, Fox Six."

"Sir, Fox Company has completed its patrol. We're not alone on this island. We found a family of five living in the southernmost village."

"Civilians."

"Yes, sir. Head of the family's a man named Wuhan. He says we're in a place called _Laghima_ Island." Ryan's voice butchered the pronunciation. "He's native. I think battalion intelligence would like to talk with him."

"I'll see if I can have Navy get a boat down there to pick him up. Get Fox Company back here within two hours. Out."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1553 hours_

"The fifty cal is on top of that hill," Ryan reported to Bedford. "Mortar team is in the next hill over. The platoon's dug in temporarily. We still haven't received the go-ahead to fortify more."

"There's still a chance they'll kick us out, Ryan." Bedford checked his watch. A quarter of an hour until the council's decision would be revealed to him. "How about the clean-up work, Ralston?"

"We've cleared a path through the rubble, sir. More than half of the bodies have been bagged and their equipment gathered. We'll have that done by the end of the day. The grave will take until tomorrow, though."

"Good." Bedford rose from his seat. "Meet me back here at seventeen hundred for additional orders. I have a meeting to attend."

* * *

 _October 6th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1625 hours_

The motorized US Navy skiff was tied to a post in the harbor. A wide-eyed, bemused Wuhan was helped onto dry ground by a sailor as he stared at the huge metal ships and parked rows of airplanes around him.

"Who are you people?" he demanded of Lieutenant Davids, who had been assigned to take Wuhan back to the base while Ryan led the rest of Fox Company the four-mile trek north.

"I've told you, sir, we're the US Army."

But Wuhan had ceased to pay attention. There was the light of realization in his eyes.

"The Lost Legion," he muttered to himself, amazement in his voice. "It's happened again."

"Hmm? Davids asked. The spindly man with the graying hair was being led across the base without resistance or any interest in the destination at all.

"Lieutenant, I need to see your commander at once," Wuhan said.

"That's where I'm taking you now, sir," Davids replied patiently. "Here we are."

He poked his head past the flaps of the command tent. "Colonel Bedford, sir? He's here."

"Come in." Bedford beckoned him over.

The tent was mostly empty. Only Bedford and the battalion intelligence officer, Captain Christopher Di Santo, were there.

Davids saluted and nudged Wuhan forward. "Colonel, this is the man you requested. Wuhan, this is Colonel Bedford."

"Thank you Davids," Bedford said. "Tell Captain Ryan to come in here when he arrives. Dismissed."

When Davids had left, Di Santo had pulled out a chair for the civilian, who took it.

"Your name's Wuhan, is that correct?"

The civilian nodded without speaking.

"You have nothing to fear from us. Your family is safe and will stay that way."

"Are you in charge here, Colonel?" Wuhan asked.

"For all intents and purposes of this conversation, yes. Let's get started on what we know."

Wuhan swallowed back the words he'd been bursting to say. "All right."

"So your name is Wuhan. Any last name?"

The civilian shook his head.

"You have a family of five, which includes two children and your wife's mother. And you live in a village four miles south of here."

"Yes, that is correct, Colonel."

"And what exactly is this island we're on?"

"Laghima Island."

"And in which country is that?"

"It was once a territory of the Air Nomads. But no longer."

Di Santo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Who the hell are the Air Nomads?"

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1610 hours_

Oyaji looked down the table at Bedford. "The council has decided. The vote is unanimous. For the good of this island, and as we hope, the world, we accept the terms of your treaty. Your men will be provided with proper quarters for the duration of their stay."

"Operational control?"

"Granted," Suki said. "It's time that the warriors do their duty to the world."

"Good. When can the warriors be ready to receive training?"

"As early as tomorrow."

"That is all which needs to be discussed today." Oyaji looked around at the other council members. Finding no disagreement, the elder stood. "The Council of Kyoshi is adjourned."

* * *

 _October 6th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1712 hours_

The Sun was just beginning to dip towards the western horizon when Fox Company came back from the patrol, crossing through the defensive perimeter held by Easy Company to return to base.

As they walked, the troopers broke into less organized groups, headed for their tents. They would be rested for a few hours, until the time came to relieve those stationed on the line.

There would be no rest yet for Ryan, though. He was needed at the command post.

The tent was more packed than he expected. In addition to Bedford and Captain Di Santo were von Weiss, Swales, Carwell, Bassett, and Major Borowski, all sitting around Wuhan. The little islanders held their attention keenly, despite his soft voice.

Bedford gestured to an empty seat beside Di Santo. Ryan plopped down into it and bent over to the intelligence officer.

"What'd I miss?" he whispered in Di Santo's ear.

"He says that he's only repeating what he told you earlier," Di Santo murmured back without looking at him, eyes still focused on the islander.

"Why did the Fire Nation attack this island a hundred years ago?" he asked.

"They wanted to wipe out the entirety of the Air Nation, sir. To strike the first blow in the war. "

"The war which is still going on today," Bedford said.

"Yes, Colonel."

"Why start with the Air Nation? You said they were a peaceful people?"

"The Fire Nation wanted to eliminate the Avatar, sir."

"What is the Avatar?"

"The Avatar, you say...?" Wuhan's lips twitched. His eyes flitted around as he composed his thoughts.

"Sir, the very force of balance and peace in this world. A person with power beyond any other, able to bend all four elements to his will."

"And those elements are...?" Di Santo pressed.

"Water, Earth, Fire, and Air. What are called the 'classical elements', sir. The Avatar is capable of controlling them with incredible strength and skill."

"How much skill?" von Weiss said.

"According to historical record, the Avatar was once able to separate enough land from a continent to form a whole island."

"If there's a war on, why hasn't this 'Avatar' gotten involved?" Swales piped up. "You'd think he'd have done something by now?"

"He's gone." Wuhan fell silent for a moment, eyes closing. A deep breath was exhaled through his teeth. "When the world needed him most, he vanished."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1730 hours_

It was getting dark fast. The already low temperature was dropping, and most of the work had been packed up for the night.

There was one thing left to do for today before going back to the warmth of shelter and fires, and Bedford supervised personally.

Pine crates were being unloaded from one of the transports and stacked on carts, to be wheeled to Keum Village.

Bedford knelt down to help a private tie down a stack, breath steaming in the cold air as he read the words stamped in block capitals on the rough wood: **U.S. ARMY RIFLE CAL. .30, M-1**.

"Come on, move it out," he told the men. "Let's get back to the village."

The sergeant in charge of the work detail began pulling one of the carts, and the group made their way back north.

The weapons would be collected early tomorrow and prepared for their purpose. Kyoshi Island had on board. Now preparations could go ahead.

* * *

 _October 6th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1837 hours_

"You seem very knowledgeable, Wuhan," von Weiss said. "What do you for a living?"

"Me, sir? I consider myself a farmer. My grandfather was a teacher when the Fire Nation invaded. He took it upon himself to care for the vast library, the Archives of Laghima, which the Air Nomads had built on this island. He left this task for my father, who, in turn, entrusted it to me. And you can't be the caretaker for a library without reading any of it."

"Anyway, what you talked about is a lot to think about, Wuhan," Bedford said. "Any more questions?"

Up and down the table, heads were shaken. Everyone had pressed the civilian for answers for quite a while, but the questions were exhausted for now.

"You're free to go. Ryan, can you have someone take this man back home?"

"Wait." Wuhan remained seated. "Gentlemen, I may have an explanation for why you are here."

"Please elaborate," von Weiss said.

"You're not from this world. You and all these men, sir."

"If you're saying we're space aliens..." Ryan protested.

"I'm sorry," Wuhan interrupted. "Let me make myself clearer. It has long been held true by the most learned scholars...in this world, the one we are in...that more than one human world exists, separated from ours by barriers. Not tangible ones, but they might as well be. They do a great job keeping us apart, for thousands, perhaps millions of years. We know of only one way these barriers can be broken."

"That is?" Carwell asked.

"Imbalance, sir." Wuhan looked much more comfortable now he was leading the conversation. "I'm speaking of major conflict, war, and great devastation. Has your world gone through an event like that?"

"Only the bloodiest war in history," Bedford growled.

"How does conflict open these barriers?"

"Human actions have consequences beyond the physical. Our worlds should be divided, and that is the natural balance." Wuhan was in his element now, speaking with authority. "But when there is conflict, when there is death and destruction, that balance is disturbed. The greater the damage, the greater the disturbance. And so, you are here in our world."

"Shouldn't it happen more often, then?" Bedford replied. "We have plenty of wars. If people fall through every time fighting breaks out, there'd be significantly fewer people around."

"Conflict must happen on both sides of the barrier for it to be fully broken. With your war on your side and this one one ours, those qualifications are satisfied, sir."

"Still doesn't make sense, Wuhan. You said that this war has lasted around a hundred years. In that time we've had two worldwide wars and innumerable major wars, genocides, and minor conflicts. There should be many, many more people like us if you're saying the truth."

"Sir, I can't explain everything. But your situation has happened before, and it's in our recorded history. More than a thousand years ago, three thousand soldiers appeared on this very island. They had armor and weapons well beyond the quality of the era. They called themselves the 'Seventeenth Legion of Rome'."

Across the table, von Weiss' eyes widened. "Exactly how long ago was this?"

Wuhan took a long moment to think. "This is the nine thousanth, nine hundred, and twenty-eighth year in the Age of the Avatar. The event happened in the seven thousanth, ninety-second year of this age."

The German was writing a quick subtraction equation on a piece of scrap. "That is one thousand, nine hundred, thirty-six years ago. In our calendar, it's 1945. Removing that many years takes us to 9 AD." von Weiss stopped scribbling. "That's strange."

"Why?" said Swales.

"The Roman Seventeenth Legion was totally destroyed in the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9 AD."

Some faces around the table showed confusion, but Bedford's was not. "Three Roman legions marched into the Teutoburg Forest to quell a Germanic insurrection. None of them returned alive. You don't remember it, Pete? It was in the history course at the Point."

"One of the first great feats of Teutonic arms," von Weiss continued, with just a little hint of pride creeping into his voice. "Between twenty and thirty thousand Romans were killed or captured."

"How far is Teutoburg from Norden, General?" Bedford asked.

"It's near Osnabruck. Less than a hundred and fifty miles distance. Two hours, less on our roads..." von Weiss' face fell suddenly. "At least, before the war."

"If it's a geographical issue, I suppose it makes sense. After all, we were taken here not too far from where they were, and landed exactly where they did." Bedford turned to the civilian. "So, were the Romans able to return to their world?"

"There was brutal fighting in the Earth continent, which is far east of here. The Avatar of the time, Li Han, heard about the legion and urged them to help her end the conflict and restore peace. They were good fighters, and two years later, they had assisted Li Han in balancing the world, repairing the barriers."

"Wouldn't that just trap them here?" Ryan observed.

"No, actually. With the world in proper balance, the Avatar can manipulate the barriers to allow those who belong elsewhere to return."

Bedford looked into the civilian's eyes. "We want to go home. Is that what we have to do?"

Wuhan was unflinching. "Follow the example of the the Lost Legion. Defeat the Fire Nation and end this war. That's then only way back."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **In the end, it was a bit of a tough chapter to write, since I had to come up with an explanation for why the soldiers got here in the first place. I hope you guys like it.**

 **I'd like to thank Writerleft for the Legend of Korra timeline she has on her series, March of Progress. It really helped me figure out the years involved. The rest? Calculators and Wikipedia.**

 **Finding a historical precedent for our protagonists to get stuck in the Avatar world was a challenge from when I started writing this. Teutoburg Forest was in the back of my mind, since so many Roman soldiers disappeared without a trace, either buried in the knee-deep mud or dead in Germanic slavery.**

 **Yes, it's a little far from Norden (217km), but it's a heavily forested, spooky, spiritual place, almost like the swamp in the show.**

 **That wraps it up. Thank you all for reading. Leave a comment and review, and follow my story if you like it!**

 **See you next time for Chapter Thirteen!**


	13. Rifles

_Kyoshi Island_

 _13th December, 0738 hours_

Bedford's legs pounded against the sand, moving along at a good pace. His morning run was on the last few hundred yards of its original three miles.

He had shed most of his gear, including his automatic rifle, helmet, and thick olive overcoat, leaving only his pistol and its holster on his hip.

The cold surf splashed on the legs of his fatigues. He was running on the edge of the waterline to avoid the remaining traces of the battle. Shattered rocks, deep bomb craters, and the occasional empty brass cartridges littered the beach, though the engineers had done a good job of clearing the bodies out.

Bedford could see the evidence of their work where the treeline met the beach. A parked bulldozer stood by a half-completed trench. Black body bags were piled farther into the forest, ready for burial.

To his right, the bow of one of the Fire Navy troop ships jutted out above him, ramp having swung down from its frontal loading door.

An aircraft bomb had split the ship in half, and the remainder of the hull had sunk stern-downwards into the shallow water, so that the edge of the prow hung ten feet over the beach. Bedford swerved left to avoid it.

The finish line was in sight as he skirted the base of a hill, moving south. He could see groups of people gathered there.

The spot was directly west from Keum Village, almost to the sea. It was as remote as could possibly be on such a small island, with no houses, plantations, or fishing spots.

Carwell had found it as the ideal place to set up a shooting range. It was far enough from human habitation for gunfire to be a bother to the civilians while still close enough to the village for convenience, and there was a tall hill behind it as a backstop for stray rounds.

As Bedford entered the area, he slowed down to a fast walk, wiping off a little perspiration from his forehead. Carwell and Sergeant Barton were putting the final touches on their preparations in front of him.

"Morning, Colonel," said Barton.

"Hello, Harry," said Carwell.

"Good morning, sergeant. Pete, what's first on the curriculum?"

"A little demonstration." The Ranger stood aside to show what he was working on. A wooden stake about five feet tall had been driven into the ground by a hammer. Another piece of wood had been nailed perpendicular to it a foot from the top, forming a rough cross.

"Strange place to be proselytizing, Pete."

"It's not finished yet. Sergeant, the armor please."

The squad leader held up a set of jointed metal sheets which Bedford recognized as a set of Kyoshi Warrior armor. They flipped it over the crosspiece, hanging the shoulder straps over the horizontal stake.

"There was a spare set lying around and Oyaji handed it over. Look at these things. Pretty solid." Carwell tapped the metal with a knuckle, producing a dull thud. "Good quality, very lightweight, but sturdy enough to resist pretty much any blade. This island has good craftsmen."

"And the shield?" Bedford pointed at the round one painted gold and green that Barton was holding.

"Also good quality. It's wood on the inside, metal plating on the outside. It's collapsible, too." Carwell secured it to the front of the set of armor, running the rope through the hand guard and back to the rear of the stake. "I'll show them what a good rifle can do. They'll get to fire a clip off each, then it's basic handling and servicing practice."

"At least they get to fire the weapon first." Bedford remembered the lessons at West Point, where he had been expected to dismantle, clean, and reassemble his weapon over and over, until he could do it quickly and without much thought. That was well before his class of cadets were allowed to head to the range, issued their first clips, and taught how to use their rifles correctly.

"All right." Carwell clapped his hands together. "Harry, do you want to observe?"

"Sure. I hope you've remembered Sergeant Grant's lessons."

Carwell laughed at that as they trudged back uprange.. "I'm a far better rifleman than Grant ever was. I mean no disrespect, but that's how it turned out."

The warriors were already gathered by the low berm four hundred yards from the base of the hill which marked the opposite end of the range. They had formed a semicircle around the batch of fifty rifles, carefully stacked in bunches of ten.

"Good morning." Carwell beamed at the platoon of warriors. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Barton held out his own rifle sideways to allow the warriors a good look at it. Most of the warriors leaned in curiously, wondering how such a strange-looking weapon could cause so much damage.

"That, warriors, is a personal present from the Allied Expeditionary Unit," Carwell explained. "It's the weapon many of you will be using, designated the M1 rifle, thirty caliber, semiautomatic. Questions?"

Suki raised her hand. "How exactly does it work, Colonel?"

Carwell held up a single round of ammunition, around three inches long, for all to see. "This here is a thirty caliber round. What that means is the projectile contained in it is around a third of an inch at its widest point."

"And the whole round is launched by your rifle?"

"No. You see, the round is comprised of two parts. The rear part is hollow, filled with explosive powder."

Some of the warriors edged back slightly at that. They had all seen the power of AEU explosives firsthand.

Carwell picked up one of the rifles from the stack, making sure it was unloaded. "Within the rifle is a small mechanical hammer. When you pull this lever here, called a trigger... " he tapped the M1's trigger without pulling it, "...the hammer is released, driving a long pin into the rear of the round. This lights off the explosive charge, propelling the front part, which is called a bullet or a slug. The slug separates from its casing, through the length of a chamber running through the weapon, and towards the target."

"How powerful are the slugs, sir?" a tall warrior asked from behind Suki.

"They exit the rifle at a speed of two thousand, seven hundred feet a second. Over distance, it slows down, but within about four hundred yards, it will hit your target at almost the same speed."

The warriors whispered and murmured among themselves. Interested glances were now being thrown at the stacked weapons.

"Did you say two thousand, seven hundred feet per _second_ , Colonel?" one of them said.

"That's right. The bullet will go straight through any armor light enough to be carried on a person. Here, let me show you." From a pouch on his web belt, he produced a single clip. "When we use this rifle, we don't only load one round. We load eight of them, so they can be fired one after another."

Carwell deftly loaded the M1. The spring-loaded bolt snapped closed sharply as he brought the rifle up to his right shoulder, stepping forward with his left foot and sighting down at the target he had set up.

He fired off his eight rounds in less than three seconds. The clip ejected from the breach with an audible _ping,_ falling to the ground beside his boots.

Lowering the weapon to his side, stock downwards, Carwell nodded to one of Bedford's men who was standing by the side. "Private, please fetch the armor plate."

The paratrooper returned with the armor in one hand and the shield in the other. He laid it on the snow in front of Carwell. The warriors crowded around it.

Carwell's rounds were placed in a half-inch cluster, which he was displeased about. He hadn't fired an M1 in months, preferring the bolt-action M1903 for his work. The .30 caliber slugs had penetrated the shield and continued through both it and the armor.

"...how did that go through?"

"...all the way?"

Suki knelt down and flipped over the plates, showing the exit holes. "It's gone through everything. And then some."

"I'd like for all of you to get a feel for the M1," Carwell announced. "I need four groups of eleven each."

The warriors divided themselves accordingly. Suki and Rena were in the first group.

"Now, first group, take one rifle from the stack and line up here. Place your rifle against the ground like so." Carwell indicated the position of the weapon by his side. "Stand four feet apart from each other."

When the first batch had followed his instructions, a private went down the line, handing each warrior a single clip.

"Now, you will load a clip of ammunition into the weapon. Pull back the handle on the side of the mechanism until it locks back."

There were a series of _clicks_ as the bolt of each weapon was pulled back to locking position.

"Now watch Sergeant Barton. The clip goes into the gap right there, slug end forward. But make sure to hold that handle where it is. It has a spring pushing it, and it has a tendency to snap back into its old position while you load it."

Barton had the bolt handle held back firmly with his right hand as he loaded with his left.

"Push down on the top of the clip with your thumb."

Suki pressed down. The ammunition slid nicely into place, but she didn't have the handle held back tight enough. Just as she began removing her thumb from the breech, the bolt snapped shut.

Carwell appeared by her side. "Here."

He pulled back the bolt far enough for Suki to pull out her thumb, which was bleeding. She muttered a curse as she put her finger in her mouth.

"It's better if you wash that with warm water, really." Carwell moved away, going up and down the line of warriors to inspect their rifles.

He waved a declaratory finger in the air. "Keep this in mind. Your weapon is very powerful. Lethal for your enemies if used properly, but deadly to your friends and yourself if you are not careful with it. Do not point it at anything which you have no intention of destroying."

Carwell gently pushed Rena's barrel sideways and downwards. She had accidentally been pointing it in his general direction when she turned to pay attention to his speech.

"Remember, if you pull that trigger, a piece of hot metal the size of your finger will hurtle straight out of your rifle at an extreme speed. So, unless you are about to fire your weapon, keep your finger off the trigger."

Some of the warriors looked sheepish, removing fingers resting on the trigger. They copied Barton and kept their fingers outside the trigger guard.

"Your weapon is almost ready to fire. Do you see that catch right in front of the trigger? It's called a safety switch. If it is in that position, your rifle will not shoot. Push the safety forward. Now it's ready.

"Follow Sergeant Barton's stance. Right leg back and brace the rear of your weapon against your shoulder. Keep your weapon aimed straight ahead. Be warned. When fired, the rifle will push back against your shoulder with force. It's called recoil, and the stance you've adopted right now is to help manage its effects."

Carwell and Barton moved, standing behind the row of warriors.

"All right. Fire!"

The rifle thundered in Suki's arms. The roar of it was as deafening as she remembered from the battle. The recoil was like a shove on the shoulder, threatening to push her back, but her stance resisted it.

Four hundred yards away, snow puffed up from the side of the hill into small clouds, showing the impacts of the slugs.

"Good!" Carwell announced loudly, to be heard by ringing ears. "Your rifle is semiautomatic, which means that if you fire one bullet every time you pull the trigger. Now, keep firing until you've used up all the rounds loaded!"

The volleys of shots rattled through the air. The side of the hill took even more abuse, stopping seventy-seven more rounds before the magazines ran dry and the clips ejected themselves.

"Lower your weapons to the original positions." Carwell looked pleased at how this first lesson was going.

"Next group, get ready!"

* * *

 _October 7th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _0939 hours_

The motorized launch was the fastest way to Wuhan's house. It deposited Bedford, von Weiss, and Di Santo on the rocky beach adjacent, and from there it was a walk of a few hundred yards through the trees to get to the little settlement.

They found him outside his home, lounging in a wicker chair. A small roll of burning paper hung from his mouth, emitting the acrid smell of tobacco.

"How can I help you?" the librarian asked, swinging his feet down and extinguishing his makeshift cigarette.

"We'd like to see the Archives which you talked about yesterday night," von Weiss said. "If we are to fight the Fire Nation, then we must learn what we can about them first."

"Of course, of course." Wuhan dusted himself off. "This way. It's about half a mile from here."

They followed the local northwest, leaving the clearing of the settlement to push deeper into the forest. These woods had been bothered little over the past hundred years, with only a barely-worn foot track leaving any mark of human presence.

"Tell me, Wuhan. Why did the Air Nomads build their library here?" Di Santo asked.

"After the problem with the Lost Legion was resolved by Avatar Li Han, the Air Nomads would come to this island to meditate. They wondered how this island was different from all the others, how it seemed to be the closest point between our two worlds."

"Is it different?"

"Some of the more spiritual members of the nation felt that the confluence of two worlds at this spot helped improve the wisdom and knowledge of those who lived here."

Wuhan pushed away a low-hanging tree branch. They were deep into the forest. "Naturally, the Nomads collected their reserve of knowledge on this island. With the help of the Avatar, they built a great archive, which all four nations contributed to."

"I'm surprised the Fire Nation didn't burn it down."

"Oh, they certainly tried. But their first priority was to eliminate the airbenders, and when they had finished, there was no one left alive who could tell them where it was."

"They never came back?"

"For the next three months after the massacre, the Fire Nation would send search parties to finish off any airbenders that they had missed."

Wuhan's face twisted in disgust. "My grandfather told me that our families had almost been caught several times as they hid. But eventually, the bastards were satisfied that they had killed all the airbenders and stopped returning. Most of those butchers went on to do their work in the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes."

"And the library?"

"Right below our feet, Colonel."

Wuhan bent over, hand reaching for something on the ground half-buried by earth and vegetation. "It's not a common characteristic of airbender culture to build underground, but Li Han wanted to create a structure that could withstand the test of time."

Wuhan tugged upwards. The object on the ground was a thick, varnished oak board, several inches thick and around twelve square feet in area, with ornate symbols and lettering.

"You are unable to read our language, is that true?" Wuhan asked.

"No," von Weiss responded. "What does it say?"

Wuhan brushed the dirt from the board. "The Archives of Laghima."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _13th December, 1527 hours_

It hadn't been a bad lesson at all. The warriors were good listeners, and while some had struggled initially, their mistakes weren't hard to correct.

The length of the day's lesson wasn't due to the test-firing session, which had only taken until mid-morning. Showing the warriors how to disassemble, maintain, and reassemble their rifles had taken longer.

In the end, however, Carwell was satisfied. He'd covered the most important elements of using a rifle today. At this rate they could move on to other weapons in no time.

"You're a pretty good teacher, Pete," Bedford commented, looking up from his notes as they sat at the officer's table. "Picked up some tricks from Madam Carwell?"

"It's not my first time as an instructor. I went into Holland last August to help out the Dutch partisans, courtesy of the OSS."

"And how did you get behind enemy lines?"

"The RAF have an extraordinary little plane called the Lysander. It can land on a dime. We're not all crazy enough to jump out of a functional aircraft at five thousand feet."

Bedford smirked. "The drop's not so bad. You can get used to it. The flak's the real problem."

"It's not for me. I prefer not to be skeet."

"Is that all you did for the OSS? Teach some Dutch farmers how to shoot?"

"No. That assignment was only to prepare for some major operation the high command was planning. We helped them harass the Germans a few times, but my team was pulled out in mid-September."

"I was involved in that op. Ike wanted the 82nd to capture and hold the bridges at Nijmegen. What happened after Holland?"

"A couple more months of specialized training in Scotland, then OSS snuck me and a small team across the Belgian border in late December. The mission was sabotage and assassination."

"Shadowy stuff. Were you able to kill any high-ranking officers?"

Carwell dug into his jacket pocket and produced his journal. He flicked through it. "Three generals, seven colonels, eight majors. I took out the CO of the 39th SS-Panzer near Remagen. Why do you ask?"

"I'm wondering if you can replicate your work here."

"No problem. Get me in the right place and I'll take out any Fire Nation general you need."

Bedford shook his head. "Think bigger, Pete. Ever wish you'd gotten within half a mile of Adolf Hitler?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I'll make it official. Chapters will be updated on a strictly irregular basis.**

 **Getting your finger jammed in the breech of an M1 rifle ("Garand Thumb") is one of the most common accidents new shooters of the weapon suffer from. It looks extremely painful, to say the least.**

 **The OSS (Office of Strategic Services) really did form small teams to be inserted in enemy territory during WWII, the basis of modern-day special operations. These units, codenamed "Jedburgh", trained local resistance groups, gathered intelligence, and performed acts of sabotage.**

 **Thanks for reading. Catch you all next time for Chapter 14!**


	14. Assessments

_October 7th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _1007 hours_

A sharp noise cut through the darkness of the room Bedford, von Weiss, Di Santo, and Wuhan had descended into. Sparks flew in the dark. Wuhan was striking flint and steel.

The chamber lit up. Flames spread from lamp to lamp, mounted on the walls around them. The room was bathed in soft flickering light.

"Oil," Wuhan explained. "The Air Nomad monks who used to care for this place stored up enough oil to keep the torch system working for a very long time."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Di Santo exclaimed. "It's massive!"

Rows of shelves surrounded them, stretching on for at least a hundred feet in each direction. They held books, scrolls, and maps of all kinds, stacked or inserted into pigeonholes.

"That is the work of century upon century of the Air Nomads, collecting knowledge from all over the world by their travels."

Bedford found himself by the wall, an arm's length from a life-size, stylized painting of a very tall woman in flowing green robes. She wore a golden headdress, white face paint, and an intense, stern expression as she struck a martial arts pose. She had a fan in each hand, and wind blew away from her, shaking the trees in the background of the painting. "Who does this depict?"

"That's Avatar Kyoshi," answered the librarian. "She died a hundred and eighty-two years ago."

"If she's dead, then...?"

"...who's the Avatar?" Wuhan finished. "The Avatar reincarnates. When one dies, another is born to take up the role of the last."

He pointed to the walls, which were lined with hundreds of similar portraits. Men and women in bending forms stared at them from every angle, eyes alight in a white glow.

"The cycle of life, death, and reincarnation has been happening for the past nine thousand years. It is the only way to keep the world in balance. For example, the person next after Kyoshi was Roku, of the Fire Nation. His death cleared the way for their ruler, Sozin, to start this madness."

Di Santo scowled. He'd been a student at Boston College before the war. "Sounds like bad theology."

"Different place, different rules," Bedford reminded him.

"What's that on the ceiling?" von Weiss pointed upwards.

Bedford followed his gaze. On the plastered ceiling was a large fresco, a map of some kind.

"That's the map of the world we're in," Wuhan said. "It is around two hundred years old, showing the four nations in great detail. The Earth Kingdom's continent is marked green, the Fire Nation's territories in red, the Water Tribes in blue, and the Air Nomads in yellow. As you can see, we are in the southwest of the map, marked here by the artist."

Bedford craned his neck. "How accurate is this map?"

"Air Nomad cartographers drew this projection from their sky bison. They are still the golden standard of mapmaking up to this day."

"You have any more maps like these?'

"This section, Colonel." Wuhan set off down the shelves. Bedford switched on a flashlight, and they followed the librarian.

The area in question was exclusively a set of pigeonholes, beehive-like in number. Scrolls of every shape and size protruded from each container.

Bedford shined a light upwards. The top of each shelf had a metal plaque, painted either green, red, blue, or yellow. He couldn't read the lettering, but he supposed it denoted the region which the maps depicted.

"Please be careful with the maps, gentlemen. Our paper is of good quality, but it _is_ almost two hundred years old, and in the current situation, finding replacements will be quite impossible." Wuhan sorted through the scrolls rapidly, ducking and weaving through the red-topped shelves as he pulled out scroll after scroll.

"Here we go!" He waved a tube aloft in triumph. Removing the cap, he unrolled a map. "Fire Nation archipelago, circa seven thousand, seven hundred and forty-two."

Bedford examined the paper closely, propping it against a wall. When he had finished, he rolled it back up again and handed it over. "Wuhan, do you have any pressing matters to attend to?"

"No, Colonel. The harvest season is gone and my family is set for the cold months. If my service is needed to end the brutalities of the Fire Nation, then I am completely ready."

"Good. Be prepared for a busy few weeks."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _December 16th_

 _1245 hours_

Bedford labored over a typewriter, clacking away at a dispatch which was to be delivered a hundred and fifty miles to Laghima Island by one of the transports.

It was a complete summary of the events which had happened over the past five days. The senior officers back west had a vague idea of what had happened, through word of mouth and the reports by the Shepherd crews, but this was the first time they would hear the whole account.

It was easier to write than the interminable after-action reports he had been forced to deliver back in Europe. Those had to be couched in excruciating detail and complicated terms to please the bureaucrats who ran the show. But with combat officers, simpler language would suffice.

 _At approximately 1200 hours, the advisory team made contact with a battalion-size Fire Nation amphibious force of mixed infantry and cavalry, supported by three landing ships. This force was defeated by 1315 hours._

 _Of the ground contingent, three hundred and twenty-eight were killed and thirty-two captured. All three enemy vessels were sunk by close air support, and sixty-four bodies were recovered by U.S.S. Langley. However, it is unknown how many were killed in total._

Bedford stopped typing for a moment to think. In the distance, he could hear the rattle of rifle fire from Carwell's lessons. A vague idea had been coming together ever since he'd learned about Kyoshi Island at the archive.

The idea of getting the island in their side had two goals: creating quick, ready-made reinforcements who needed only minimal training to be proficient, and establishing a launching point for operations against the Fire Nation forces lodged in the western part of the Earth Kingdom.

Eventually, the plan was to blast a swathe from the coast with their air support and paratroop units through occupied territory all the way to the heavily dug-in Earth Kingdom defensive lines south of Ba Sing Se, liberating a large area from the enemy's hands. Getting into the good graces of the Earth Kingdom, who controlled the most resources in the fight against the Fire Nation, was the objective.

With the knowledge the AEU possessed, they could provide thousands of Earth soldiers with firearms and technological support, until the locals could push back the divisions of the Fire Nation.

It was a clever proposal which von Weiss had conceived. But it would take a while to carry out. The build-up was projected to take six months, plus up to two more for the campaign to link up with the Earth Kingdom hierarchy.

When contact was made, the timetable of the operation grew even more uncertain. It could take up to eighteen months to properly manufacture and supply firearms, train the royal troops, and launch a successful counteroffensive. They were looking at more than two years more away from home.

Bedford had a different idea. One for a single, powerful blow right to the head of the enemy and the heart of their nation.

The AEU had the firepower, had the mobility, and had the experience. But first the enemy had to be thrown into disarray.

At first, Bedford didn't know how to proceed. But after learning what Carwell was capable of, he now had a way forward. A beheading was in order, not of a person, but of an entire command and control system.

The tools were right in earshot. His new recruits were capable of carrying out the mission he had in mind, with just a little tweak in their training routine which already matched their natural skill set.

His problem was intelligence. There was a massive information gap which had to be filled in order to pull off such an operation.

What local intel the Allied Expeditionary Unit possessed had been gleaned from maps and outdated records. Even the constant aerial reconnaissance being carried out by the EC-47 crews could only take them so far.

While the aerial recon had been vital in finding major enemy installations, cities, and production facilities, it wasn't enough. They needed sources on the ground to properly identify the targets marked for elimination.

But if this obstacle were overcome, then the rewards would be great. They could make their first moves in a matter of a few months after the information was obtained, and if it succeeded, they could be home within a few weeks after.

Bedford tore off the final page of his dispatch and inserted a fresh piece of paper. He was going to send a second document west.

* * *

 _October 20th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _0543 hours_

The first pair of EC-47s lifted off into the dawn, engines rumbling as they clawed upwards into the clouds. They were headed north for a recon sortie into Fire Nation airspace.

The Shepherd crews were trained for this situation. They had mostly been drawn from observation and field reconnaissance units and trained to operate the new variant of the C-47 which had been developed in the dying days of the last war.

Bedford watched them leave. They were going to be the first servicemen to lay their eyes on the Fire Nation, possibly the first people in this ancient world to free themselves from the surface of the planet through man-made means.

The past eight days had led up to this point. He had ordered Di Santo to work with Wuhan and a team of assorted intelligence staff to prepare sets of rudimentary maps for the air crews. They were then printed, placed in a grid for reference, and copied.

One of the strangest things about the world they were in was the small distances. According to the old maps, it was barely a hundred miles to the Fire Nation's capital from here, less than that to the South Pole, and just a shade over two hundred to the Earth continent. Another bizarre fact of life in this place.

Shorter distances had their advantages. It meant less fuel expenditures and faster deployment times. But they were only four hours of sailing time from the Fire Nation. It was a little too close for comfort.

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _December 16th_

 _1547 hours_

"Colonel, we've come up with a plan to address the sunken ships in the bay," Lieutenant Ralston reported to Bedford.

"Let's hear it."

"It's impossible to tow or dig the wreckage out of the sand because of sheer weight, sir. We'd like to affix explosives to the ships to break them into more manageable sizes. The engineers can move the wrecks piecemeal and place them in burial sites inland."

"Sounds good, Lieutenant. We have plenty of TNT stored out at Laghima. How much is needed?"

"Two hundred pounds should do, sir."

"I'll put in an order for it over the radio. You'll have it by tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem. By the way, don't bury the scrap metal. The craftsmen of this island could use some raw materials. It's a symbol of goodwill, if you follow me."

"I understand."

Bedford waved to the exit of his hut. "Dismissed."

Sarah Ralston shoved her hands into the pockets of the borrowed US Army overcoat as she reached the open air. Dover was positively temperate compared to this place.

Her hometown was still scarred by the war. It had been a target for the Luftwaffe and the German heavy artillery on the opposite side of the Channel, turning the landscape into a maze of craters and rubble. The Territorials she'd joined had disturbed the land even more, working on the complex of bunkers, trenches, and minefields intended to wreak havoc on any invading Germans.

It had been a frightening time, waiting and watching for the dreaded enemy just over the horizon to crash onto their shores and end the war for good. She remembered those hurried lessons by little old men on how to load and fire their aging Lee-Enfields when the Jerries showed up at the front door.

1944 had been a relief. When the Allies had taken the south of France, the shelling had stopped, the Luftwaffe had been decimated, and the invasion threat was gone. There were no more bunkers to be built, no more shovelling rubble, and no more straw dummies for bayonet practice. The last year of the war was almost peaceful. She kept hearing about the carnage farther east, but it was a distant worry. There was no more fear of her life being snuffed out in a millisecond by an errant bomb.

Then came the brigadier, Swales, from his post in Germany. The little engineering company was yet to be officially demobilized, and so they had volunteered for one final job to help a strained supply situation on the coast of the North Sea.

Ralston rubbed her tired eyes, trudging through the snow back to her unit. That decision to leave home and head to Germany, a final adventure for their little group of women and middle-aged men, had stranded them in this godforsaken land.

Home was a long way back.

* * *

 _October 27th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _0835 hours_

"Over the past three weeks of our research and reconnaissance sorties by our friends at the Royal Air Force, a basic picture of the Fire Nation has been put together."

Di Santo placed a stack of reconnaissance photographs taken by the Shepherd crews over the past week on the table, where the senior officers were gathered to hear his briefing. The intelligence officer pointed at the large-scale map of the Fire Nation tacked to the cork board behind him.

"The Fire Nation is an archipelago of twenty-nine different islands. Their seat of government, Royal Caldera City, is situated on their westernmost and, by far, largest island in the chain, Capital Island.

"They possess a very large and relatively advanced military. Our estimates have their numbers at around five hundred thousand personnel total. Considering the much lower population of this world as compared to ours, that's a significant force and more than enough to sustain a war of conquest.

"Their technology is roughly on par with the early Industrial Revolution. Our aircraft show no evidence of infrastructure required to produce usable oil, but they have rail lines all across their homeland to transport coal from the mines in the northwest to their factory belts and military bases."

"That's both good and bad news," von Weiss commented. "Coal means they're significantly behind our level of technological advancement. But that means we can't seize their fuel supply to add to ours."

"We've got plenty of that," objected Bassett.

"Take it from me, Commander," Swales said, "you cannot have enough fuel."

"The Fire Nation has vast industrial facilities, concentrated mostly inland," Di Santo continued. He held up a black and white still of a large factory compound, easily the area of a major town. "It's evident that they keep their factories bunched together, ringed with layers of security deep inside their territory. This site is designated Production Facility Able, the first of eight such sites we've identified. Further reconnaissance has determined what these factories turn out."

The captain showed another photo, a blurry, hastily zoomed-in top view of a row of boxy, two-tracked armored vehicles.

"Christ," muttered Major Borowski. "They've got tanks."

"We're still working out an estimate for the quality of their armor. Coal power does come with limitations."

Bedford raised a finger. "How about firearms? Is their any indication that they use guns?"

"We have no evidence either way, sir. It's something we're working on." Di Santo began packing away his materials. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but that's all I have for you today."

A match hissed, and von Weiss lit his pipe with it. His head was bowed, his face grim.

"This evidence seems to rule out the possibility of combat operations in the near future," the German said with a small, rueful shake of his head. He looked much more tired than he had been before the briefing. "I had hoped that we could end this ongoing conflict quickly."

Bedford helped the intelligence officer clean up. "Good work, Di Santo. Keep it going."

The rest of the officers looked at Swales. He was, technically, the highest-ranking person on base.

The Englishman rubbed his mustache uncomfortably. "We'll continue the reconnaissance flights, I suppose. Captain Di Santo, you'll bring us the relevant information as it comes in?"

"Yes, sir. Our team will do our best to keep you updated."

Bedford glanced at the cork board, where the map of the Fire Nation was pinned. He could read the penned notes on it, the details of the massive strength which opposed them.

He'd never been involved at this level of operational planning before. Fighting an entire nation-state was the sort of thing only the flags discussed, and even then it was the ones with more than three stars on their shoulders who really had the clout to carry it out.

Bedford considered the circumstances as he emerged into the cold night, barely resisting an ironic smile.

It had to be him. It just had to be. He had to be the first soldier in the history of the United States Army to face an a country of millions with barely two battalions of infantrymen.

Somehow, it had to work out. He had to play it smart. Everyone on the island had been through too much to be denied the comforts of home now.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Dover was hit by German artillery during the war, killing over two hundred civilians and causing a lot of damage to the town.**

 **Let me answer Sal, who asked last chapter if I've read 1632 by Eric Flint or the Empire of Man series by David Weber.**

 **I've actually never heard of either until you mentioned them, Sal. They sound interesting, and I might give them a shot if I find a copy somewhere.**

 **Thanks for stopping by. Catch you next time for Chapter Fifteen!**


	15. Comrades

_December 18th_

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _0837 hours_

The slit trench was dug three feet down, shored up by sandbags and a couple of logs. It was by no means a permanent position, just built by excavator and shovel to fit and protect four people during the demolition of the three beached ships.

Sarah Ralston dropped down into the trench, three hundred meters away from the target. A weedy, graying Home Guardsman with three stripes on his sleeve followed with a detonator. They, along with a detail of eight others, had spent the last hour and a half painstakingly placing the few hundred pounds worth of TNT in and around the wrecks.

Captain Ryan was already crouched inside the trench. He wanted a listening post established in the treeline, but the demolitions had delayed that plan. So, he was here to observe.

Ralston looked over at the paratrooper. '"Be warned, Captain, this will be loud."

"I'm used to it by now, Lieutenant." Ryan cracked a smile and settled deeper into the trench.

"Sergeant, the signal."

The other engineer brought a thin whistle from his pocket and blew hard into it, creating a high-pitched shriek which could be heard for a mile. He repeated it twice, then ducked back down. Everyone in the possible danger area was now behind cover.

Ralston and the sergeant slipped on black earmuffs. The lieutenant had the detonator in hand. "Fire in the hole."

With a shrug, Ryan stuffed fingers into his ears.

A third of a kilometer away, the three wrecks disintegrated. The shock wave shuddered the ground as steel flew everywhere, sailing through the frigid air and dotting the previously-cleared beach with shards.

When the smoke cleared, little remained of the three troop ships but scattered scrap metal. The largest pieces left could easily be hauled away by heavy equipment.

Ryan whistled. "Christ, Lieutenant. You've got a knack for this kind of thing."

Ralston dusted off her carbine and slung it over her shoulder. "Our unit was trained by a former officer in the Royal Engineers. He specialized in this sort of thing, did it in India and during the Great War."

"Like the cliffs out in the valley." Ryan snapped his fingers. "Gone, just like that."

"Bringing down cliffs is what our engineers were taught to do, Captain. We'd planned on demolishing the Cliffs of Dover if Fritz ever tried to climb them."

Ryan hauled himself up onto flat ground. "And they were so pretty, too."

"Captain, we'll have the beach cleared in four hours. You can have your listening post then."

To their front, the rest of the engineers were appearing from their respective shelters. A bulldozer roared to life, emerging from the valley.

"What have you got next?" Ryan asked.

"Colonel Bedford asked me to inspect the jail at Shen Town. He wants me to assess if it can hold our prisoners properly."

"I was headed there to check on the guard force." Ryan offered his hand to help Ralston out of the trench. "Come on, I'll walk you over."

"Thank you." She took his hand, and Ryan hauled her up.

They began the walk Shen Town in silence. It was a bit over a mile on the icy paths which wound past Keum Village to the island's main trading center and highest-populated settlement.

"Smoke?" Ryan proffered a Lucky Strike from the pack in the sleeve of his coat.

"No, thank you. I don't smoke much, really."

"Your loss, ell-tee." His lighter clicked, and the tip of his cigarette glowed.

"Cold day today, isn't it?" Ralston breathed out steam.

"'Bout tolerable." Ryan had removed his glove to hold his cigarette properly. "Belgium was a freezing shithole...er, pardon. Hellhole, I mean."

In response to Ralston's quizzical look, he added, " the Colonel told me to tone down the language when talking to foreign personnel."

"Was it just you, Captain?"

"Ha ha. You're asking if he singled me out? No. It's standing orders. 'You are to address all foreign personnel with us with proper respect, referring to them by rank. You are to disregard age, experience, or...uh...'" Ryan stopped to consider his next word, "'...sex.'"

"I see." Ralston searched her memory. Of her company-strength unit, there were twelve women of the Auxiliary Territorial Service, mostly vehicle and machine-tool operators, mixed in with the Home Guard engineers. None had complained of untoward behavior by any of the paratroopers. True, the two units had been kept far apart, with even the hired Germans staying in closer contact with the Americans. But that was probably for the best.

"Colonel Bedford must be quite the force if he's able to keep your people in check with just one order," she observed.

"Most of us have learned that the Colonel makes good judgements. Anyway, I follow orders.

"Everyone in your battalion seems to speak highly of Colonel Bedford," Ralston agree

"You'd be hard-pressed to find a better CO than Harry Bedford, ell-tee. I was with him in Italy, France, Holland, Belgium, and Germany. He always made the right call. And when the bullets were flying, he never once lost his nerve.

"We were in Belgium just after new year. The Germans launched a huge attack where we were dug in, on the Salm River. We were outnumbered six to one, but we held. Then the order came to counterattack. Our regiment, the 505th, was going straight up the center of the attack.

"We were moving through thick snow against artillery and armor. No one wanted to go out there. So the Colonel was first into the fight, into the machine guns and mortars and all hell. We still call it Harry's Long Run. He was everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

"He was leading the companies personally. He was at the front, killing Krauts with that BAR of his, dragging the wounded to safety, calling in artillery support, and taking enemy positions just like any regular trooper. We were on the attack for six straight days, and he was there for every assault."

"I'm sorry, but..." Ralston tried to choose her next words, "...wasn't that a little foolhardy? Putting himself out like that, like a common private. What if he died?"

"It was a little stupid, maybe. But it was the only thing holding us together in the cold and blood and death. It had to be done if we were going to win. And we did."

Ryan's customary grin was gone. He stared at his boots. "It was a tough month. I lost friends in that godforsaken hellhole. But it would've been more, many more, if Bedford hadn't done what he did. He almost paid the price for it, too.

"On the last day of the counterattack, we were pushing a ridge. After we'd kicked them off, we found the Colonel. He was lying on the ground ten feet from a German foxhole with two nine-millimeter slugs in his chest. The last Kraut got off a few rounds just as Bedford killed him."

Ralston remembered the colonel running about with a massive pack, as if it was nothing. "That seems...serious."

"He was half bled-out when we got him to an aid station. It should've ended his war."

"It didn't?"

"The Colonel is a tough son of a bitch..." Ryan interrupted himself, a frustrated expression on his face. "Goddamn it, I keep slipping. Anyway, he was back three months later for the last few weeks of the war."

There was still a fair distance to Shen Town. Ryan looked to his side, where he expected the lieutenant to still be walking. When she wasn't there, he looked behind him.

Ralston was a few steps behind, struggling a little through the calf-deep snow. He only just noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the slumped posture.

Ryan had seen that look many times before. It was on the weary faces of those who hadn't had a good rest for a few nights.

He slackened his pace a little. "So, Lieutenant, get much sleep recently?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't quite catch that."

"Have you been sleeping well at night?" Ryan repeated.

"No. I can't say I have been."

"Any idea why? Personally, it's great to sleep beside those fireplaces they've built for us."

"Can I confide in you, Captain?"

"Well..." Ryan though for a moment. "Sure."

"I haven't been able to sleep since the battle. I just can't get to terms." The engineer closed her eyes and exhaled. "I really can't."

"With killing people?"

"I've killed more people than Jack the Ripper!" Ralston waved her arms to illustrate her point, then remembered who she was talking to. She blushed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. takes most of my people some time to get to grips with ending lives."

"It's just..." Ralston swallowed. "...every time I try to sleep, I keep remembering. I see them being smothered by piles of earth or...the ones I shot writhing around."

"I understand." Ryan nodded. "I remember the first time I shot someone. It was just after I landed on my first drop in Sicily, about two and a half years ago. An Italian soldier saw me, got his rifle up, and..." he mimed pulling a trigger. "I was faster. Dead before he hit the ground. The first contact's not what you expect at all. No time to think."

"My father used to take me hunting in Christmastime, deer mostly. I pitied the thing, such a majestic animal. But at least we were good enough they wouldn't feel the pain. During the battle...I wasn't good enough. I know I shot at least two of them, probably more. I hit one in the stomach, and he was screaming in the snow until he bled out."

"Combat's not what you expect it to be, is it?"

"Not at all." The engineer shook her head. "It's too loud to think. All I could do was shoot, and I hit them. And that's why I can't sleep."

"I don't know what to tell you, Lieutenant. I'm not a shrink." Ryan shrugged. "Usually, after combat, you're too dead tired to do anything but sleep. All I can say is that you'll eventually get used to it. In the meanwhile, ask Doc Wroblewitz over at the aid station for a sleeping pill or two. Tell him I sent you."

"I'm sorry for dumping my troubles on you, Captain," Ralston said as they set foot in the outskirts of Shen Town. "Thank you for your help."

Ryan smiled. "It's what a good CO does."

* * *

 _1721 hours_

The craftsmen of the island had worked remarkably fast. The huts they had constructed east of Keum Village in a matter of days were warm, dry, and very comfortable.

Three smaller ones were set aside for the officers, who slept two a house, while four much larger structures, each the size of the Kyoshi Warriors' dojo, were meant for the enlisted men.

Bedford was billeted with Carwell, while Ryan shared with Lieutenant Michelson, the weapons platoon leader from Fox. The final officers' quarters belonged to Ralston and a engineering platoon commander, Kenyon.

Sundown was nearing when Carwell returned to his hut. Bedford was studying by lamplight a typewritten bundle of paper stapled together. "How'd it go, Pete?"

Carwell placed his rifle against the wall. "Pretty well. We've started with targets at two hundred yards. Groupings are still loose, but they'll tighten. They can field-strip and reassemble their weapons reasonably fast."

Bedford tapped the paper in his hands. "Latest dispatch from HQ. I sent out a proposal a few days ago."

"What kind of proposal?" Carwell sat down on his bed, elbows on his lap and fingers forming a steeple.

Bedford briefly outlined his plan, then added, "Are your people up to it?"

The Ranger whistled. "They're good. Very good. I saw them training hand-to-hand a couple days ago. You remember the martial arts fellow we saw in the PI? Must've been ten years ago."

Both of them had been assigned to staff posts in Manila just after graduation from West Point. They had been walking in the park by the bay when a local kali master had given a demonstration to the astonished crowd.

He'd sparred with one of his apprentices, disarming him of a wooden practice knife with total ease and striking with blindingly quick, precise movements.

"Yeah, I remember. I'll tell you Pete, I'd back myself in most fights, but that's one person I don't want to meet in a dark alley."

"Well, these women are just like him. Those swords aren't just for show. As long as we have enough time to train them properly, they can handle it."

"How about changes in the training regimen?"

"We haven't gotten to infantry tactics yet. That's a couple months from now. I can tweak it if need be."

"That's Swales' call. That's what this says." Bedford waved the dispatch. "They think my idea has promise, but they need intel either way. They're sending over Captain Di Santo soon to interrogate our prisoners."

Carwell hung up his overcoat. "I like your plan. It's a bit of a bold stroke, but clever."

"It's intel we need. More than if we go with von Weiss' idea. But we could go home earlier."

"There's still that Avatar fellow somewhere out there. To close the barrier thing."

"Well, I'd like him to open it to let us through first." Bedford tore the dispatch into small pieces and placed them in the ashtray. "Could I borrow your lighter?"

Carwell handed it over. Bedford lit the remains of the dispatch with it and watched them crumble to ash.

He went to the door and scattered it to the wind, then resumed his seat.

"It's a strange concept, isn't it? The Avatar. A messiah in different forms, whose role from birth is to keep the peace in an ancient world. A single person with huge power at his fingertips."

Carwell glanced over at his rifle. "And for all our superiority and advancement, he's our only ticket home."

* * *

 _December 19th_

 _1042 hours_

Shen's local jail was intended for smugglers, pirates, cabbage thieves, or those who had gotten a little too exhuberant from drinking at one of the town's two saloons.

The thirty-two Fire Nation soldiers captured during the incursion made it a tight but just about manageable fit, where they could keep each other warm throughout the winter.

They were surprisingly cooperative. They felt lucky to be alive after what had happened to their compatriots, and so they were mostly quiet, receiving their meals from the Kyoshi Warriors placidly and only holding conversations about food and women.

Escape was inadvisable. They knew that much. There was only one way in and out of the prison, through the main door.

None of them was a powerful enough bender to break through the thick stone walls. That meant any attempt could only start if they somehow managed to steal the keys from one of the very wary and dangerous women who placed them there in the first place. If they managed that, they all had to leave through the same door, which was wide enough for only two men at a time.

Then there were the obstacles outside. Coils of barbed wire parallel to the doorway stretched for fifty yards on both sides, channeling any escapees into a narrow path which happened to lie completely inside the overlapping killzones of two machine gun nests and a rifle squad. This strip of land was illuminated at night by a gas-powered floodlight.

All things considered, however, the prisoners were treated reasonably. They were all given a single bowl of warm, fresh rice three times a day, along with water and blankets.

The wounded had been removed from the cell one by one, under restraint and gunpoint, and brought to healers in town to be treated and given medicine.

Among themselves, the men agreed that they would never willingly run into those weapons which had torn their friends to shreds. They would just have to wait for the end of the war.

* * *

 _November 10th_

 _0821 hours_

Most of the mapmaking was done already. Every unit commander had a full set available. Some regions, such as the southeastern Earth Kingdom and the Southern Water Tribe were deemed to be currently irrelevant and would only be mapped by special request.

It was getting colder by the day as winter grew nearer, and there was a definite chill in the Archives.

Today's research was different to the last. Only Bedford Di Santo, and Wuhan were down in the library this time, and they were looking for allies.

General von Weiss' idea of an Earth Kingdom campaign was the only reasonable suggestion. But a staging base had to be found first.

The ideal base had to be an island. The Earth continent's own coastline was infested with Fire Nation forces, making it impossible to use until the operations had already cleared the area.

This island had to be relatively close to the continent, and either uninhabited or with inhabitants who wouldn't sell them out.

Lastly, the island would preferably have a trained military force, such as a local militia, who would be receptible to training and would serve as guides and scouts throughout the campaign.

"Can you tell me about Whaletail Island?" Bedford asked Wuhan.

"It used to be a territory of the Air Nomads," the librarian replied. "The inhabitants were probably killed in that first raid."

Whaletail was a possibility. He noted it down with a pen for further consideration.

"I've got a possible location as well, sir." Di Santo held his notes aloft. "Kyoshi Island. There's even a local guard there."

"Ah, Kyoshi. Named for the Avatar of two cycles ago." Wuhan gestured at her painting on the wall opposite. "If I recall correctly, it used to be part of the Earth Kingdom mainland, until she separated it herself."

"Separated?" Di Santo wondered.

"She broke it off from the continent with earthbending and blew it out to sea with air."

"Jesus," the intelligence officer muttered.

"What can you tell us about the place?" Bedford said.

"The locals are known to be devoted to the Avatar. The guardians of the island are the Kyoshi Warriors, an all-female force who are known for their stealth and skill."

"All girls, huh? Honest-to-God Amazons," Di Santo commented. "Do they kill men on sight?"

"Not at all. The people of Kyoshi are known for their hospitality. Except if you are an invader, of course."

"We'll have recon give it a look." Bedford wrote the name. They had a list of four possibles. "I think that should be good for n..."

The chamber was bathed in a white glow, bringing the relatively dark room to the brightness of daylight. The sudden glare blinded Bedford for a moment.

When his eyes finally adjusted, he was looking at the portrait of Avatar Kyoshi. The tall woman's painted eyes were blazing with the otherwordly light which burned in the room. The walls were aglow as the paintings of the Avatars began to light up like someone had flipped an electrical switch.

On instinct, Bedford drew his handgun from his hip holster, pulling back the hammer with his thumb. He brought it up to aim at the wall, sights locked on Kyoshi's forehead.

Di Santo reached for his carbine, then remembered that he'd left it behind at base. He crossed himself hurriedly.

Then the bright light faded, leaving the three of them back in the dim, flickering lamp light.

"What the hell was that?" Di Santo hissed.

Wuhan was just as stunned, but, surprisingly to Bedford and Di Santo, he wore a wide smile when he turned to them.

"It must be destiny!" the civilian declared. "This long war is about to end."

"So you know what that thing meant?" Bedford pressed.

"Yes." Wuhan forced himself to speak in a calmer voice. "It means that the Avatar has returned."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **During the Battle of the Bulge, the understrength 82nd Airborne held the line against over 40,000 fanatical and well-equipped SS soldiers.**

 **Though ordered to retreat by Field Marshal Montgomery, the 82nd later launched a counterattack to regain the ground lost. They pressed on through withering German fire, managing to capture their objectives and shatter what remained of the 62nd Volksgrenadier and 9th SS Panzer Divisions, though at a terrible cost.**

 **The 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment took 50% casualties in the attack, and the real-life 2nd Battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin H. Vandervoort, was seriously wounded by mortar fire.**

 **Thanks for stopping by. Catch you next time for Chapter Sixteen!**


	16. Revelations

_November 20th_

 _1127 hours_

 _Laghima Island_

The list of the four possible allies had been whittled down over the past week by recon and the intelligence teams.

Whaletail had been the second to be discounted. It was close enough to the continent, but was too close to a Fire Navy patrol line to serve their purposes.

Islands in the southeastern Earth Kingdom and northwest Southern Water Tribe territory had been considered, but the former was covered by water at high tide, while the latter was mis-mapped by the original Air Nomad cartographers.

It had turned out to be a massive iceberg. which had melted into the sea after a relatively hot summer.

That left two options: Kyoshi Island, or another dive into the scrolls at the archive.

Kyoshi looked like a viable choice. Though close to the Earth mainland, the peninsula it had separated from was still currently held by the kingdom.

Any expedition eastwards was possible as well. The route to Kyoshi would take them past the uninhabited Kowa Archipelago, a string of islands stretching west to east which were recorded to house monstrous wildlife. That was bad news for settlers, but good for concealment from the roving Fire Navy patrols.

The main problem was neutrality. Wuhan had explained that Kyoshi Island had the reputation of isolationism. Its people preferred to stay in its sleepy corner of the world, providing great irony when their most famous daughter turned out to be one of the most direct and confrontational Avatars of all time.

From the head of the table, Swales looked at Bedford. "What do you recommend, Colonel?"

"Sir, I recommend that we undertake the diplomatic mission. The information we have suggests that it's worth the attempt."

"Your opinion, Captain Di Santo?"

"Seconded, sir," the intelligence officer put in. "Me and the Colonel did hours of research in the archives. I don't think we can find more prime land like this one."

Swales watched the table. No one objected. That was good. He had a hard time deciding unless there was a consensus. "Let's do it. Colonel Bedford, the expedition is yours to run."

* * *

 _December 19th_

 _0645 hours_

 _Kyoshi Island_

In the glacial conditions of Belgium, discipline on hygiene had been understandably relaxed. There had been more pressing matters.

It wasn't the case here. Bedford had ordered that every man be fully uniformed, tidy, and clean-cut. They were among civilians, and discipline had to be observed.

That meant shaving in the morning, a rather displeasing exercise considering the temperature.

Bedford was used to it. Even in the Bulge, he'd insisted on breaking out his razor and soap, to show his men that even the best of Hitler's legions and the worst weather couldn't stop him from his routine business.

But the fresh air on raw, irritated skin still stung. He rubbed his chin absently as he stood just outside his hut.

"Sir. You wanted to see me?" Di Santo's voice.

They exchanged salutes. The battalion S-2 was bundled up heavily, with a thick scarf wrapped around his neck and a black wool hat beneath his officers' cap. Bedford remembered him being one of those who suffered the most in the Ardenne. Di Santo was better prepared this time.

"Yes. I'm wondering if you need any assistance in interrogating the prisoners."

"As a matter of fact, I do, sir. Does anyone here have a Bible?"

"A Bible?" Bedford repeated. He checked his subordinate's face for any sign of a joke.

Di Santo remained impassive. "Yes, sir."

Bedford stared at his subordinate for a few seconds, then relented. "I'll humor you. Try Lieutenant Colonel Carwell. He's at breakfast."

* * *

 _0654 hours_

Carwell looked up from his plate. "Why, Captain?"

"Just something to help along my interrogation, sir. If the prisoners are uncooperative."

"Any particular verse in mind? I don't think the Sermon on the Mount, however good for the soul, would scare them into cooperation."

"I was thinking more of Revelation, sir."

Carwell shifted his gaze to Bedford, who gave a slight nod of approval for the captain's request. "I can't see why, but here you go."

He reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew an old, well-used copy. Its pages were creased, stained, and dirty, a veteran of sand, mud, snow, and blood, like its owner. Carwell handled it gently, using both hands to place it in Di Santo's grip.

The captain nodded in thanks.

"Anything else, Di Santo?" Bedford said.

Di Santo looked from colonel to colonel and decided he'd pushed far enough. "No, sir."

"I want to see whatever information you've got out of them," Bedford ordered. "Dismissed."

Soon, Di Santo's footprints leading east were all that remained of him. Carwell watched him leave, wearing a bemused expression. "What on earth does he need it for?"

Bedford sat down across him, his tin pan filled with warm food. "No idea, Pete."

"But you endorsed his request anyway?"

"Captain Di Santo has peculiar ideas. Not all are practical, but he does know how to obtain information."

"So long as he doesn't destroy my Bible," Carwell groused. "Mother gave it to me before I shipped out to Southampton."

* * *

 _December 3rd_

 _1737 hours_

 _Laghima Island_

The preparations were nearly complete. Two sorties of EC-47s, now given the radio callsign "Bird Dog", had brought in a fresh batch of mapping photos. The technicians produced a new set of maps, which were now stored in Bedford's case.

Bedford had chosen his personnel. Peter Carwell and Captain Ryan would accompany him, alongside a handpicked squad of infantry from Fox Company.

Captain Barry, the ranking member of the engineering team, was unavailable. He was still needed to shore up the local defenses.

Traveling in his place was Barry's deputy, Lieutenant Sarah Ralston. She was a tall, reserved, and mostly quiet young woman who spoke politely, with a distinctly upper-class accent. She usually carried herself well, but now looked a little weighed-down by all the gear strapped to her body. A secondhand Lee-Enfield was slung over her left shoulder.

USS _Langley_ would be a tight fit, but only for around twelve hours. Most of Bedford's group would be out on deck, except in the case of heavy snow. Using one of the seven LST-type transports available would have provided them more room, but Bedford had gone for the superior firepower and speed of the destroyer in case of any trouble.

Bedford watched as the sailors began loading the mission's equipment, wheeling boxes of grenades, ammunition for rifles, pistols, and carbines, and TNT charges up on deck, where they would be secured in place. The squad leader, Barton, was in consultation with Ryan as the paratroopers began their final checks.

The mission would depart at 2100, just over three hours from now. There was just time for one more officers' meeting.

* * *

 _1745 hours_

Swales handed over a document to Bedford. "These are the terms we'd like you to negotiate."

Bedford skimmed the page briefly. _We are prepared to offer you the following terms in exchange for basing rights and operational control over your militia for the duration of the war: 1) A company-strength garrison to defend the island's independence, 2) the modernization of your armed force by the supply of our weapons at no cost, and 3) free training for your militia in the use of our weaponry_ _._

"We'd like you to stage a demonstration for their benefit," Swales said as Bedford put down the paper. "Show them how good our equipment is. We think that will convince them to join us."

"Do we have more terms if they still won't take the deal, sir?"

"Next page," Swales directed.

Bedford flipped over the paper. _Further term if additional incentive is required: 15% share of all spoils of war captured in any action in which your troops were involved._

"We'd like you only to offer the last deal if they need more convincing," said Swales. " If they agree to the previous three, then we can conclude business without need of mentioning the fourth term."

"Are we planning on any sort of financial reimbursement in the future, sir?"

"Yes. Perhaps not as high as fifteen percent, but I'm sure we can find an equitable amount."

 _If we win._ That ending to Swales' sentence hung in the air.

Below the final terms was a single line. _The above terms are offered by Colonel Harry Bedford, authorized representative of the Allied Expeditionary Unit._

"Allied Expeditionary Unit?" Bedford asked.

"We'd thought we'd put a name to our group to makes us look like a unified front," Swales responded. "General von Weiss' idea."

Bedford grunted with slight amusement. He had trouble associating the word 'Allied' with the Germans. "Sir, if I may be dismissed. Final checks need to be made for the journey."

"Yes, of course." They stood. Swales extended his hand.

Bedford shook it. "Thank you, sir."

"Likewise." Swales have a slow nod. "Godspeed, Colonel Bedford."

* * *

 _December 20th_

 _0717 hours_

 _Kyoshi Island_

There were six cells inside the prison, three on either side of the lone corridor. Each cell seated either five or six POWs per room.

Sergeant Barton led four riflemen through the corridor, boots thudding against the stone floor. They stopped at the last door on the right, and the squad leader slid down the metal slat to look into the cell.

The prisoners were awakened by the sharp raps of a rifle butt being rammed against the bars. This cell had six of them, who began to stir at the sound.

"Wakey, wakey," called the sergeant through the door. "Stand against the wall and keep your hands in sight."

The prisoners wore confused looks. They were usually roused about an hour later for their morning meals, but today was early. A few rubbed their eyes, but eventually followed orders. The six of them stood, their backs to the wall.

Four rifles came up as Barton inspected the prisoners, pistol in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Satisfied, the sergeant pointed to two of them. "Twenty-Three, Twenty-Seven, come with me. Rest of you can go back to sleep or whatever the hell it is you do in here."

Prisoners 23 and 27 traded nervous expressions. Each POW had been given the blue clothing of Kyoshi Island to replace their tattered uniforms.

In this case, however, every blue shirt had a number from one to thirty-two, painted on the chest in bright red numerals in both "Common Tongue" and English. Crude rank insignia was daubed just below, and an additional marking, a horizontal stripe across the belly, showed bending status: red for firebenders and white for nonbenders.

On Di Santo's instructions, Barton had chosen the two most senior, a nonbender ensign and a firebender sergeant. They edged towards the door. His riflemen tracked them all the way.

"No funny moves or you all get it," Barton warned.

The prisoners weren't planning on it. 23 and 27 allowed their hands to be bound. Their feet were hobbled, tied far enough apart to walk but too closely to run.

Di Santo waited for them, sitting at a small table which had been dragged right in the middle of the machine gun's killzone. He drank warm milk from his tin mug, borrowed bible in one hand.

"Sit them down here, Sergeant." He motioned to the two wooden seats opposite him. "Thank you."

"We'll be watching 'em, sir. One wrong move..." Barton raised his pistol, and the ensign flinched visibly. The riflemen retreated back to their positions.

Di Santo put his mug aside, fixing the two Fire Nation servicemen with an interested look. "You gentlemen know that escape is futile."

The sergeant gave no reply to the question, but the ensign nodded slightly.

"And you'll go the same way as your friends if you try," Di Santo went on.

"We have..." the ensign, number 23, stopped mid-sentence. "...accepted the fact."

"You people have had a lot of free time recently," Di Santo observed. "I'm betting you're wondering how you suffered such a terrible defeat. How your friends were cut down by our might. How you outnumbered us six to one but never got in a single blow. Are you wondering why?"

No response this time. The sergeant refused to meet his eyes. The ensign stared into space, a tinge of horror on his face as he recalled that horrible hour two weeks ago.

"The Spirit Chong Tu tires of this war," Di Santo said. "He is weary of the bloodshed and destruction."

"Chong Tu?" the ensign exclaimed. "The Spirit of War is nothing but a myth!"

"Chong Tu wants it over, and he wants the aggressors punished for it. So he brought us from a different world to end it. Where do you think these weapons came from?" Di Santo laid his carbine on the table with a forceful thump.

The ensign recoiled. 27, the sergeant, stared at it.

"We can kill you with ease, from far away, and in an instant. We are your worst nightmare, for you and your nation."

"Then we will die!" the sergeant broke his silence with a roar. "We will die until we kill you all. One day, the ones after me will stand in your ashes. My spirit will then be in the body of the one whose boot will crush the final charred skull of our enemies."

Di Santo shook his head. "You don't understand. The War Spirit wants punishment. Your spirit and the spirits of every man, woman, and child who participates in this war and who we kill with our weapons will not be reincarnated. As they travel through the Spirit World in search of a new body, they will be taken and brought to eternal torture in Chong Tu's domain."

The intelligence officer opened his borrowed Bible to where he had bookmarked it. "One of our men was given a vision by the Spirit himself before we embarked on our journey to end this war. He was shown what fate was in store for the spirits of those we killed."

Di Santo waved the Bible. "He recounted what was revealed to him in this book. This is what is in store for you."

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. " _For the cowards, murderers, and warmongers, their place will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur. And that is the second death."_

 _"That person who will also drink of the cup of the War Spirit's fury will be tortured with blaze and brimstone, and the smoke from their torture will go up forever and ever. Those who worship slaughter and carnage will have no rest, day or night, along with those who supported their injustices._ "

Carwell's copy was illustrated. Di Santo turned the book to show the two POWs the artist's rendition of Hell, a mass of naked bodies stretched out on racks or hanging by one leg as demons oversaw their eternal suffering with various torture devices.

Di Santo shut the book with a snap and returned it to the safety of his pocket. "My comrade John was never the best at drawing, but you get the idea. I can't help the friends you lost in the last battle. This is a reality for them right now. But maybe you could help yourselves."

The ensign looked like he was about to be sick. Even the grizzled NCO had fear dawning on his face.

"So, you two have a choice." Di Santo was barely able to conceal his grin. "You gentlemen could cooperate with my questioning. You save your thousands of your countrymen from this fate, and Chong Tu could go easy on you because you helped end the war."

"Or you refuse to answer me, and my unit decides that it's a burden to keep you fed and guarded. You go the same way as your friends in the beach, and live in pain and eternal horror. My unit smashes through your country, sentencing your entire people to that fate as well." Di Santo held out his palms. "Your choice."

The ensign's mouth moved wordlessly for a few moments before he was able to form his thoughts. "I...I think..."

"You stay quiet!" the sergeant bellowed at him.

"I am the senior officer left, Sergeant...I...I need to make decisions for our own good."

"I won't let you sell out our nation! Keep your mouth shut!"

The young ensign caught Di Santo's eyes. "I'd like to cooperate..."

Flames blazed at the sergeant's mouth. The ensign yelped, trying to dodge, but snagged his leg bonds on the chair and landed helplessly in the snow.

The table overturned in the scuffle, sending Di Santo's notes flying everywhere. He hit the ground, scrabbling for his carbine. "Help!"

Above him, he saw the figure of the firebombing sergeant towering over the prone ensign. The NCO bent down to ready a scorching blast, intent on silencing his former superior permanently.

Three quick rifle shots ripped the morning air. Two puffs of red erupted from the firebender's back and he staggered, breath driven from his lungs. His head snapped up, and a fire blast licked upwards before he toppled over, blood spraying the ground.

"Jesus!" Barton came running up, rifle still up and ready. "Captain, you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah." Di Santo was back on his feet, carbine pointed down at the dying firebender. "I'm good, Sergeant. Thanks." He forced himself to gather his wits. He still had a job to do.

The prisoner was beyond help. He was bleeding too fast. Just before he died, the firebender's body gave an involuntary twitch, watched on by the ensign.

"Looks like Chong Tu already got started on him," Di Santo said pointedly as two paratroopers began dragging off the body.

He helped the shaken ensign back into his chair. "You were saying something?"

* * *

 _1436 hours_

Di Santo presented himself before Bedford with a thick stack of notes underneath his left arm. He was slightly dishevelled, his overcoat and hat still damp from earlier.

"I heard about the situation," Bedford said. He was on his typewriter, answering correspondence from Laghima Island. "You all right, Captain?"

"Yes, sir. Just about in one piece. A firebender tried to kill another POW to stop him from talking. Sergeant Barton of F Company nailed him in time."

"Have a seat." Bedford motioned to the edge of his own bed. There were no other chairs in the hut yet except the one he was using. "Have you unearthed any useful information so far?"

"Plenty, sir. I got their senior officer to talk. For the last few hours he's given me information on everything from standard-issue weaponry to government structures. I'll need a few days to pick him dry. I'll be here until the new year, at least."

Carwell's bible was in Di Santo's hand. He held it out to Bedford. "Sir, I'd return this to Colonel Carwell personally, but he's still conducting the daily training."

"I'll do it personally." Bedford laid the battered book on his desk. "Did it help in your interrogation?"

"Yes, sir, it did. I'll be sure to thank Colonel Carwell for it when I see him. God's actually absolutely terrifying when taken out of context."

"Just when I thought that meeting fire-breathing people and deadly Kabuki enthusiasts was the strangest thing I'd see on this island..." Bedford shook his head disbelievingly. "Then you join the picture."

Di Santo placed a hand in his chest. "I'm flattered, sir."

"Dismissed. _"_

* * *

 _December 24th_

 _2337 hours_

It was the closest to a peacetime Christmas they'd had since leaving stateside. Unlike the ration-hit Britain, where the few remaining veterans of the Italian campaign present had spent the holidays two years ago, Kyoshi Island was stocked up in both food and drink.

The islanders enjoyed any excuse to have a celebration. They were perhaps, the last cheerful place in this world torn by war.

Pleased by the vast amount of good-quality steel provided for their craftsmen, the people of the island learned of the holiday and prepared a feast grander than the one in which they had been officially welcomed to the island. Food and drink circulated freely, though Bedford had forbidden alcohol. The troops had to content themselves with fruit juice and bottles of Coke shipped in from Laghima for the occasion.

The islanders had sung and danced for three hours, moving to the beat of small whalehide drums. The troopers watched them celebrate Christmas with more vigor than the ones who'd had the idea in the first place.

The festivities had broken up at around 2300 hours. The civilians went to sleep, and watch shifts began changing. Keum Village began to quiet down, and in thirty minutes was dark, save for a few lanterns.

Bedford and Carwell returned to their quarters. The latter curled up and went straight to sleep, but Bedford sat down at his desk and lit the lamp with a match.

On the table was one of Di Santo's typewritten reports: **Ruling Family of the Fire Nation**.

 _Information obtained by Cpt. Christopher M. Di Santo, 2/505th S-2, from prisoner interrogation, 20 December 1945, Kyoshi Island,_ the intelligence officer had typed at the top of the page.

 _The Fire Nation is ruled by "His Excellency, Emperor of all Empires, Bringer of Progress, and Son of Azulon the Just," Fire Lord Ozai._

 _He resides in the Dragon Palace in Royal Caldera City, the capital of the Fire Nation. From there he commands an army of approximately three hundred thousand men and women and currently is waging a war intent on subjugating the entire world._

 _Fire Lord Ozai rules by absolute monarchy. There is no other power in the Fire Nation other than the throne and those granted power by it. Thus, Ozai and his small handful of relatives, the royal family, are undisputedly the most powerful people in the country._

 _The Royal Family consists of only five members: Ozai, his wife Fire Lady Ursa, his elder brother Prince/General Iroh, (apprently passed over for the throne upon FL Azulon's death, though this is only surmise - Cpt. Di Santo) and his children, Prince Zuko and Princess Azula._

 _However, of the five, Ursa was exiled in "mysterious circumstances" (phrasing of interrogation subject) in 9920 A.A. (1937 AD) soon after the death of the previous king Azulon, while the Princes Zuko and Iroh were also banished by Ozai in 9925 A.A. (1942 AD), never to return unless they found and captured the Avatar._

Bedford turned around to look at the snoring man behind him. Pete Carwell had been slipped across the German border last year to target senior enemy officers.

 _Three generals, seven colonels, and eight majors._ If it was anyone else, Bedford would accuse him of lying. But Pete was as straight and honest a man as he would ever meet.

Carwell had thrown at least three, maybe four enemy divisions into disarray with his work. The 39th SS, expected to fight to the last man while defending the approaches to Remagen, had surrendered after their commanding officer had been killed. Now the Ranger could take it to the next level.

Bedford's hand brushed over the names of the members of the Royal Family. If his idea worked, then Carwell could create a power vacuum. With the queen and two prospective heirs in exile, there were only two targets that needed elimination: the Fire Lord and his other heir, Princess Azula.

According to Di Santo's report, the Royal Family were among the most talented and powerful benders in the world, and they would be heavily guarded by the best soldiers the Fire Nation had to offer. But they would be focused at dealing with other benders, bows, and knives. Not a sniper team a quarter of a mile away in position to land the first blow in a series of rapid strikes.

If that was achieved, the operation could take a more conventional route. Without any modern air defense system to oppose them, the RAF could range far and wide, targeting headquarters, bridges, rail lines, coal mines, fuel dumps, and other kinds of infrastructure. The intelligence team back at Laghima was already compiling a list of possible targets. It was just a matter of hitting the right ones.

Finally, the ground assault. The AEU had over a thousand infantrymen armed with modern weapons. What could get the Earth Kingdom out of their shell faster than watching the Fire Nation take a pummelling on home territory?

The plan required intensive preparation, precise timing, and good weather. That meant winter and spring were out as options. It would have to take place in the summer. Late summer, in fact. But it was workable. The new information proved that.

* * *

 _December 25th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _2027 hours_

The airfield was bounded by a trapezoidal perimeter, the parallel sides running northeast-southwest. The shortest side was to the north, while the longest was the one running along the eastern coastline. The Americans held the two longest sides, dug in west and east of the airfield. The Germans held the other parts of the perimeter.

Staring into the forests south of the airfield, the men of the 103rd Infantry Division were reminded of Bastogne. They had been part of the "kampfgruppe", or task force, thrown at the Belgian town in an attempt to capture its crucial crossroads.

Both sides had been bled dry. The beleaguered American garrison of the 101st Airborne and elements of the 10th Armored Division had fought off assault after assault until relieved by General Patton's Third Army.

The men didn't want to be left alone with those memories, or, for the more experienced among them, their experiences deep in the Russian heartland. But the quiet was too overwhelming, the emptiness too confrontational.

A few men were humming to themselves. A young, pink-faced soldier at the far end began singing softly. It spread down the line slowly.

 _"Stille nacht, heilige nacht."_

The older men remembered their youth, and the younger their childhoods. It had been a simpler, better time, even in the midst of economic recession. They could spend Christmas with their parents and brothers and sisters, not holding a line in another war they couldn't fully understand.

 _"Nur das traute hochheilige Paar, holder Knabe im lockigen Haar."_

Soon, every man in the line took up the slow song, echoing out into the darkness. _"Schlaf in himmlischer ruh, schlaf in himmlischer ruh!"_

What surprised them were the voices to their right, slowly rising in volume. They sang in the same tune, but the words were different. _"Silent night, holy night..."_

"Are they...?" A corporal manning a machine gun began.

"Yes." A lieutenant nodded. He could speak some English. "The Americans wish to challenge our prowess, _Gefreiter_."

 _"All is calm, all is bright,"_ rang from the west side of the perimeter.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked the company commander, a captain. He wore a small, melancholy smile. "Sing louder, _kameraden_!"

 _"Lieb' aus deinem göttlichen mund, da uns schlägt die rettende stund'."_

The voices began to mix, German and American. It was hardly a choir. They were all untrained. But it was almost like home.

 _"Sleep in heavenly peace..."_

 _"Schlaf in himmlischer ruh..."_

 _"Sleep in heavenly peace."_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Probably the toughest chapter for me to write so far. Unlike the other chapters, I left quite a bit of material on the slaughterhouse floor.**

 **Di Santo is using a few edited verses of the Book of Revelation (also called St. John's Apocalypse). Basically he identified the parts where hell is described and removed any mention of God or the devil, replacing them with the mythical war spirit Chong Tu, who only seems to be pissed at killers and warmongers instead of the whole list of the corrupt, the depraved, and the cruel mentioned in the Bible.**

 **Di Santo was studying at Boston College before the war. Never underestimate a theology student's power of bullshitting. I know a couple.**

 **So, I finally revealed Bedford's master plan. Some of you may have guessed the first part. ("Beheading of a whole command-and-control system," from Ch14, anyone?)**

 **There's going to be a timeskip of two or so months between this chapter and the next, taking us from mid-winter to spring.**

 **If you're wondering where these past sixteen chapters fit into the show's timeline, here it is:**

 **The Norden flashbacks and the Laghima Island scenes up to the part where the Avatar paintings light up (Nov. 10, 1945) are all pre-"Boy In the Iceberg." The glowing portraits part takes place during the "Southern Air Temple".**

 **The Kyoshi Island storyline begins two weeks after "The Warriors of Kyoshi Island" and ends around the time of "The Waterbending Scroll".**

 **So that wraps up Chapter 16 and Act One. Thanks for stopping by. Catch you next time for Chapter 17!**


	17. Visitors (Part One)

_February 28th, 1946_

 _2047 hours_

 _Kyoshi Island_

The snow was melting faster with every passing day, beginning to reveal the brown sand beneath. The winter was almost gone, with just a few gusts from the south keeping the air from warming up completely.

The paratroopers had shed the long overcoats, leather gloves, and white helmet coverings, leaving them in their baggy jump uniforms with the pants tucked into their combat boots. The blue and red patch of the 82nd Airborne, hidden by the cold-weather clothing, was now displayed prominently on each man's left arm.

The warmer weather meant more a intense PT schedule for the garrisoned Fox Company. Ryan led them every morning in calisthenics, getting them back into sharp shape.

Some, who'd enjoyed the good food and relatively lower exertions of the winter months, had to work through aching legs and heavy lungs for the first few days. However, every man present had been able to get through the pain and exhaustion of paratrooper training and jump school. Compared to that, a few coughs and some shortness of breath were nothing. By the end of the week, all of them were going through the daily dozen and the long runs with just the regular amount of effort, if not ease.

The firing range had been extended to eight hundred yards as the platoons cycled through once a week for practice. It would've been more, but they'd only been allotted twenty percent of the ammunition stores at Laghima for training purposes. With the warriors requiring most of that to hone their skills, it was all the men could practice.

The spring was supposed to bring the island's trading season, but the market and establishments in Shen Town were still closed. According to the intelligence reports coming from Laghima Island, recon showed a concerted offensive from the Fire Nation towards the southwestern Earth Kingdom.

On a good day, Fire Nation patrol boats could be seen blockading the coast ten miles away, stopping merchants from traveling. The paratroopers eyed them warily, muttering and smoking in their foxholes, but the enemy seemed content enough to leave them alone, unaware of their watching presence.

It was a cool, quiet night at the end of February, with a slight chill in the air. The moon was full, shining bright and clear in the cloudless sky.

Keum Village was settling down for the night. The children playing around the main avenue throughout the early evening were now being ushered into their homes by their parents. Doors were shut, windows were closed, and lights extinguished. The villagers intended to have an early night. It was not to be.

Bedford was just getting in as well, automatic rifle over one shoulder and a stack of dispatches under the opposite arm, the latest delivery from Laghima Island. He had his back to the moon, one foot already on the front step of his quarters, when he realized that the wall ahead of him was reflecting a crimson glow.

In fact, everything around him was cast in a blood-colored light. His head snapped around, first in annoyance, but his gaze was arrested when he caught a glance of the moon. It glowed a dull, dark, unmistakable red.

Bedford looked at it with some interest, offhandedly wondering what kind of optical illusion gave the moon its color. It was red to an almost apocalyptic degree, and he wasn't completely sure that it was due to atmospheric conditions.

Heads poked out of windows. The villagers were also busy gaping at the sky. Bedford thought that the locals would have been used to the strange and the fantastic by now, having lived beside an enormous sea monster for decades, but apparently this phenomenon was not a common occurrence. People were flooding back outside for a better look.

A full minute passed before Bedford realized that something was wrong. He'd been accustomed to hearing the continuous crash of waves on the beach, audible even from the village. Now the sound of the tide was silent. Gone.

The gathered islanders gasped, pointing upwards and chattering worriedly. Oyaji, wrapped in a long robe, was among them. He was in deep discussion with a woman around his age, his hands flying around in agitated gestures.

Bedford walked up to the elder. "Does this happen often, councilman?"

"Colonel Bedford," Oyaji acknowledged. "The moon is out of balance tonight."

"Does the moon have its own Avatar?"

"No!" The councilman looked aggrieved that Bedford had asked such a stupid question. "No one lives on the moon, Colonel!"

"Then what caused this?"

"The Moon Spirit is in trouble. I don't know how, but it is. That's the only way the moon could be imbalanced."

Bedford made a mental note to send a research request to Laghima the next day. They'd never really covered spirits, though Wuhan probably had plenty of material to work with. "Is there any way it can be helped?"

"Nothing I'd know, Colonel." Oyaji turned away to look at the moon again.

"Pretty, isn't it, sir?" Ryan's voice said from behind Bedford. The captain had just come in from his nightly rounds among his men. His right hand hung in the sling of his weapon as he craned his neck.

"According to the headman, it means there's something wrong with the moon. Something about the spirits."

"Gawd, sir. Do we have to fix this one as well?"

Bedford shrugged. "Think this one's out of our hands, Ryan."

"Or it could just be a rare phenomenon and these people don't know enough science to explain it, sir," Ryan suggested. "I sure don't. The Brits say Captain Barry of the engineers used to be a professor of science when he was a civvie. Maybe he could."

Just then, the moon began to change color. The red appeared to burn away as the white glow returned, pushing away the darkness. The island was once again bathed in natural moonlight.

The villagers cheered. To the north, Bedford could hear the crash of the rolling tide against the sand start to return.

Ryan removed his helmet, wedging it under his arm. "Well, that was a nice show. Colonel, if I may, sir?"

"Go." Bedford gestured with his arm to allow the captain to leave. Turning his back to the sky a second time, he trudged back to his hut. _What the hell was that all about?_

* * *

 _March 13th_

 _1607 hours_

Peter Carwell stood the firing line, his hands behind his back. He was looking downrange at a row of wooden silhouette targets which had been placed four hundred yards away. By his feet, eleven Kyoshi Warriors were laid prone at the top of the bulldozed berm, rifles by their shoulders.

"Load!" Carwell called out. Each warrior removed an eight-round clip from their ammunition pouches, opened the breech of their rifles, and inserted the clips. There were no more mistakes while reloading. They'd been practicing it too much.

"Fire!"

The familiar crack of rifle fire sounded. Everyone was used to the deafening roar of it, and even the more sensitive of hearing among the warriors no longer cringed at the sound.

Carwell walked up and down the firing line, one eye on his watch and another on his trainees. They had ten seconds to loose their eight rounds.

This exercise was not as frequent as it used to be. At the beginning, rifle training had been every day for a month, using the advantage of the warriors being an actual trained fighting force instead of new recruits. Carwell could acquaint them with their equipment rather than having to concentrate on building discipline and physical fitness.

Once the warriors had mastered the basics of using their rifles, Carwell had taught them how best to move and fight with their new weapons. They were used to working in squads of seven or eight, but he'd rearranged them into "fire teams" of four to five. Three teams made a squad, and the forty-five warriors made up four squads, or around the size of a regular platoon.

Carwell had concentrated more on training the fire teams and squads. Both Bedford and von Weiss' plans would utilize them as scouts and maneuver elements, instead of being deployed as a whole unit at once.

Bedford, in addition, had also asked him to keep an eye on the best shots in the group, part of the reason for the twice-weekly rifle practice. Carwell suspected that he was going to be training snipers for Bedford's plan soon if the paratrooper's ideas were greenlit by Swales.

The ten seconds had elapsed. The limit had been lowered from fifteen seconds two weeks ago, and some of the warriors had initially struggled to empty their magazines, but now all were shooting within the time frame.

"Cease fire on the line!" Carwell hollered, just in case one of them had a round left. "Safe weapons and stand away!"

The warriors engaged the safeties on their rifles and stood up. Carwell inspected each one to make sure they were empty, then used a small, magnified spotting scope to examine each target and see how the warriors had performed.

He went back to the opposite end of the line to begin his evaluations, starting with a dark-haired young woman who was the tallest of her companions. "Tsuya, right?"

"No, sir. I'm Akiko. Tsuya is that one, four people down the line." The real Tsuya popped out from the line at the mention of her name and waved at Carwell.

The Ranger sighed inwardly. He still had trouble telling the warriors apart. Due to the ceremonial face paint, it was even difficult to tell their age. They could be anywhere from eighteen to thirty-five judging by their physical capabilities.

Carwell assumed that they were around the same age as Bedford's people, which had worried his friend. The paratrooper had expressly prohibited any unnecessary interactions between the two groups for fear of complications. The men had to limit themselves to meeting unattached civilian women in town instead.

"I should issue all of you name tags," Carwell grunted. "Anyway, Akiko, I think you'll want to change your grip of your hand." He raised her M1 from the ground and demonstrated his point. "If you put your right hand a bit farther up the stock, just like this, you'll be a bit more comfortable on the trigger. Make"

He handed the rifle back and went on down the row of warriors, offering advice and mixing up names with equal measure until he got to Suki. Her red-brown hair and ornate headdress were too distinctive. "Commander Suki. That's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, Colonel." She forced a smile.

"Thank God." Carwell looked slightly pleased to have finally gotten one right. He double-checked to see that her rifle was completely unloaded, flipped the safety off, and pointed it downrange. "You're still shooting a little loose here."

Suki's jaw tightened in frustration. She'd always been among the first in everything the warriors did, except this. As hard as she tried, she still couldn't be as precise with the weapon as the other members of her old team. Akiko and Tsuya were quite adept, while Rena was a different story altogether. "What am I doing wrong, Colonel?"

"It's in the trigger. See, you're pulling back on it too hard, slapping it down like this." Carwell mimicked her technique while dry-firing the weapon, still firmly aimed downrange and away from anyone. The muzzle jerked around after every pull of the trigger. "See? Your shots won't be as accurate, since the rifle's going to move slightly just as you pull the trigger. Try to squeeze the trigger straight backwards, slowly, instead of slapping it down. Get me?"

Suki accepted her rifle back. "I think so, Colonel." She watched as Carwell moved on to the last person in the line, Rena.

She was youngest and newest of all of them, not even old enough to be a fully-fledged warrior yet according to the guidelines set down by Koko, Kyoshi's daughter and the first commander of the warriors.

Rena was a good enough fighter, but raw. Suki had spent many hours in the dojo and out in the fields, instructing her in the ways of being a warrior, but now there was a discipline in which the trainee excelled her teacher. Far excelled, in fact.

"That's good shooting, Rena," Carwell said. She'd shot a group of around three-quarters an inch at four hundred yards. Not bad for someone who'd been at it for only a few months. "You're picking this up very well."

The young warrior blushed under her makeup. "Thank you, sir."

"Keep it up. Just a little more practice and you'll be giving Colonel Bedford's men a run for their money." Carwell gave Rena an encouraging smile, then clapped his hands together. "That's all for today. Dismissed."

The warriors broke formation, sharing grins. A few gathered around Rena, jostling her and engaging in what looked like some light ribbing. She had a nervous grimace on her face as she broke free and picked her way back to the footpath.

Carwell adjusted the strap of his rifle as he began the walk back to the village, a cigarette between his lips. His eyes focused on the two figures on the path ahead. Suki had her arm around Rena's shoulder, talking animatedly. He'd always seen them leave training together. Both came from Keum Village and shared the same way home, so it was inevitable that he'd come across them while headed back to his quarters.

Almost a year and a half ago, his small team had crossed the German border not far from where the 82nd Airborne would soon make their stand. There had been four of them, two Americans and two Brits, all combat veterans, all senior officers. They had fought everywhere, in France, Tunisia, Egypt, and Italy, and been put through challenging training courses by the OSS in preparation for their incursion into the enemy heartland.

If Bedford's plan was to be the route taken by Swales, then Carwell would have to do it all over again. It was something he'd expected, anyway. He was the only person in the Allied Expeditionary Unit who had even the least idea of how to carry out such a task as required.

His main concern lay elsewhere. The rest of the strike team would have to come from right here, from current crop he was training. The AEU was risking too many officers already, especially with him taking the lead in this mission, and to address this problem, Bedford's plan called for the rest of the personnel to be drawn from the Kyoshi Warriors after intensive training.

Carwell was now looking at one, maybe two potential members. Rena was easily the best rifleman that the warriors currently had. She was a little green out in the field, but he still had a few months to iron it out.

Suki was different. As the warriors' original leader, she was sharp at absorbing tactical instruction. She moved like a snake and was an excellent close-in fighter. Her marksmanship was a little loose, but perhaps her talents lay in a different role.

 _Submachine guns,_ Carwell thought. For those warriors who weren't as proficient with their rifles as the others. The weapon suited their old fighting style of getting in close, though in this case, not too close. He'd introduce his students to the them next week.

* * *

 _March 23rd_

 _1442 hours_

 _Hill 154_

The first time that the American fighting man had stepped foot on Hill 154 had been eventful. Some of the very first (and still the most recent) shots of the war had been fired there.

The northernmost hill of the three that dominated the pass leading south from the beach had been one of the first reinforced after the battle. A sandbagged .50 caliber heavy machine gun nest was the main feature, courtesy of the engineers, and an infantry squad was posted atop it at all hours.

Lookout duty was dull but important, as Sergeant Barton had reminded his men several times, but as nice as the scenery and the ocean looked, it soon grew tedious to look at.

Cigarettes, playing cards, comic books, and Westerns were currency up here. A shift was much better managed by a good book or a few dozen poker hands. Most valuable of all were the girlie magazines, carefully smuggled in and hidden away in any nook or cranny they could find.

There was a rumor going around that Lieutenant Michelson had the biggest stash of them all, carefully wrapped in pliofilm and stored below a loose floorboard in his hut. It was also whispered that the Colonel knew about the whole operation and implicitly tolerated it, so long as neither he nor the locals never saw a corner of the material. It would not do to risk offending their allies' sensibilities.

"Fold." Sergeant Barton threw his hand of cards down. He and three of his men were playing poker, using a stack of rifle crates as a makeshift table. An assistant machine gunner pulled the coins on the crate towards himself, chuckling. He shuffled the deck a few times.

Barton stood up as the next hand was being dealt. It was time for another look through his binoculars. He started with the northern horizon, working his way east. It was a cloudy day, and there were no Fire Nation ships visible in the distance. He focused on the coastline of the continental Earth Kingdom.

Even from here, he could see the impressive cliffs looming over the surface of the ocean. The lieutenant had fed them all some story about that Avatar fellow somehow breaking off this place from the mainland through his magical powers.

At first he dismissed it as bullshit, but looking at the sheer, four-hundred-foot stone wall, he could believe it. After all, he'd seen a massive eel try to sink the ship he was on and people throw fire out of thin air at him before. Anything could be possible in this place.

A small cloud moved across the sky to the northeast, slowly drifting closer. Barton squinted, scowling at it. The wind was wrong, blowing from the south, and the cloud was too low...

Barton grabbed the radio handset. "Fox Six, this Fox Red. Fox Red calling Easy Six."

"Stand by for Six," was the reply. Static crackled and scratching noises came from the receiver before a new voice came on line. "Red, this is Fox Six. Go on, over."

"Fox Six, we have a flying creature inbound at two hundred feet, bearing zero-seven-five, two, maybe three miles out. It's descending over the island."

* * *

 _Keum Village_

"Say again, Fox Red." Captain Ryan's eyes narrowed. He heard the same words again. His ears weren't faulty, then. "I need more details, over."

"Six, it's uh..." the person at the outpost was at a loss for words at first. "It...it looks like a flying bull, sir. It's white, has horns, has...it has passengers riding on it. Two passengers."

"Do the passengers look like hostiles, Red?"

The sergeant paused again. "Uh...no, sir. The passengers do not look to be armed or hostile. But they're headed right for the island, over."

The captain made his decision. "Hold fire, say again, hold fire, but keep them in your sights for as long as possible. We'll surround them when they land. Fox Six out."

Ryan had been in the center of the village when the radio message came through. He had his helmet on and weapon ready in an instant, setting off on a run towards the barracks. The men milling around the area saw him and straightened up.

"Second platoon, grab your gear and follow me!" he barked. The paratroopers scrambled for their equipment and formed up.

Ryan caught his first sight of the creature, half a mile east of the village. A massive, furry, white animal with horns glided through the air towards the village, skimming the hillsides and treetops. There were two riders on its back, sitting on a saddle large enough for three grown men to lie down in.

"Stay ready but hold your fire," Ryan said. His SMG was shouldered, pointed upwards at the approaching...thing. That was the only word he could think of it by right now.

* * *

The warriors were out in the forest east of the village, gathered in a clearing with Carwell deep in the explanation of small-unit tactics. "Now, Tsuya, when you maneuver your squad towards the objective, you need to cover the advance. Assign your fire teams to either complete the maneuver or support it. Don't push towards the objective all at once, since movement makes you vulnerable."

Carwell held up a crude, paper-and-pencil diagram, trying to illustrate his point. "Always keep one or two fire teams in place, behind cover, ready to open up on the enemy if and when they try to stop your advance. It's what we call covering fire..."

He cut himself off, noticing that something else had attracted his students' attention. They were all staring up through the canopy of the forest. He followed their gaze.

"What in God's name is that?"

"That's Appa, Colonel. The Avatar's flying bison," Suki explained. "His animal companion and way of getting around."

"The Avatar's...he's here? On Kyoshi Island?"

"That's great news, Colonel!" Suki beamed. "If we could find a way to combine forces..." Her voice trailed off as Appa drifted farther to the west, and her face fell. "Oh, no."

Carwell remembered what _Langley_ had done to the monster eel. "Oh, God."

He had no radio out here. "Suki, we have to get to Colonel Bedford now. The rest of you, make your way back to Keum Village behind us."

An obvious thought rang through Carwell's mind as he broke into a dead sprint. _Killing the Avatar's pet might not exactly be conducive to getting home._

* * *

 _Grid square_ _16WVC134214_

 _Three miles northeast of Kyoshi Island_

 _1443 hours_

"Is it just me, or is Appa a little twitchy today?" the young man holding the reins of the flying bison asked no one in particular.

"It's probably just you, Sokka." His sister folded her arms and sat back against the side of the saddle.

Sokka bent over to look the bison in the eye, upside down. "Hey, Appa, are you feeling twitchy?"

Appa sniffed the air and rumbled. Sokka could feel the vibration under his knees. "See, Katara? He's agreeing with me."

She ignored him, and the journey across the strait separating the Earth Kingdom mainland from their destination was in silence. It was only when Kyoshi Island was in sight when one of them spoke again.

Sokka put his elbows down on Appa's fur, resting his chin on the palms of his hands. He sighed. "Ah, a place where they actually like us. It'll be nice to see Suki again."

"You have to focus, Sokka," Katara chided. "We're only here to obtain enough evidence to get Aang acquitted. I don't want to leave him in that cell all alone."

"He's the Avatar! He can take care of himself for a few hours. Anyway, am I really going to get an urgency lecture from Miss 'Let's-Stay-One-More-Night-In-This-Treehouse-With-Jet'?"

Sokka heard the familiar swish of water leaving his sister's whaleskin pouch and instinctively ducked, but instead of getting himself slapped around the head, he heard her gasp. The water splashed down onto Appa's back, prompting a grunt of protest from their ride.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

The two words he got in reply were enough of an explanation. "Fire Nation."

He looked down over the side of the bison. Two huge ships were docked in the southern harbor, both made of gray steel. Fire Navy. They were completely made of steel and too large to belong to anyone else. A steady stream of sailors moved back and forth from the ships to the shore, unloading some kind of equipment he'd never seen before.

Katara's fists were clenched. "I thought that this was the one place in the world that _they_ didn't care about? Why do they feel the need to take everything? The people of this island weren't a threat."

Even the village where Kyoshi's statue had stood for centuries had been touched. New structures had been built at the eastern edge of the village, each large enough to house the two or three dozen soldiers now pouring out of them in response to Appa's arrival in their airspace. The green-clad men below responded quickly, gathering outside their barracks with weapons ready.

Sokka frowned. _Green uniforms?_

"Come on, Sokka, let's go back to Chin before they start launching things at us." Katara shook her head, sighing. "There's no way we can take on that many. We'll just have to convince Aang to break out of jail."

"Wait." Sokka reached for a collapsible telescope strapped to his hip. He extended it and peered down at the village through its lenses, focusing on the group of soldiers. They were all looking right straight at him, and aiming their weapons...

"They're not Fire Nation." Sokka handed the telescope over. "Look at what they're wearing and how they're armed."

"Huh?" Katara brought the telescope up to her eye and her expression brightened a little, but was replaced by confusion. "They don't look like firebenders...where could they be from?"

"They're soldiers, all right. But what kind of weapons are those? They kinda look like Aang's staff."

"Are they Earth Kingdom troops? They know we're here, but maybe that's why they're not attacking." Katara took another glance through the telescope, this time at the two ships. Every single Fire Navy model they had come up against had the familiar red banner streaming from the mast. These didn't. "Maybe they're on our side? Let's go lower."

"Okay, but we better be ready if they start throwing things."

With a small flick of her fingers, Katara willed the water out from Appa's sodden fur, returning it to her pouch. Sokka used his free hand to grab his boomerang, but was met with thin air.

He groaned. It had only been a day since he'd lost his favored weapon while escaping an ambush by some komodo-rhino riders, and he still missed the familiar feel of it. Instead, he picked up his war club from a saddlebag.

Using his free hand, he twitched Appa's reins. The bison nosed down towards the island.

* * *

"Easy, fellas," Ryan said as he studied the inbound animal. "If that son of a bitch does anything stupid, you're free to hammer him. Hansen, get that MG moved to cover our eight o'clock."

As it grew closer, Ryan realized that the "thing" was a bison. A massive one, white with brown markings. And six legs. And it flew.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, but kept his finger off the trigger. No sense hosing down what looked like civilians, even if their ride was intimidating.

The flying bison hovered thirty feet above him, its beady eyes fixed on the machine gun crew. Somehow the thing knew where the most danger lay. Ryan saw Hansen's knuckles tighten on the grip of the thirty-cal.

A crowd was forming rapidly. To Ryan's surprise, they all seemed to be delighted by the animal's appearance, and their children ran closer to it, squealing in enthusiasm.

"Aang's back!" a little girl with frizzy hair called out, leading the charge. The children ignored the soldiers, nudging their way through them to get where they wanted to be.

"Captain Ryan!" Carwell emerged from the forest fifty yards from him, one of those warrior girls alongside. Both were at a full run, having crashed through bushes and tree branches to get there as fast as they could. "Captain! Do _not_ open fire! That animal belongs to the Avatar!"

"Wasn't planning to, sir." It was mostly true. Ryan safed his Thompson and lowered it. Seeing his example, the platoon soon followed, bringing their rifles down from their shoulders.

The warrior accompanying Carwell looked up at the two people riding the bison and waved them downwards. "It's all right, you can land now!"

Slowly, the beast descended towards the ground, until its shaggy legs touched sand. Its two passengers slid down its broad side with practiced ease, dropping beside the warrior.

Ryan finally got a good look at the riders. One teenage boy, attempting to look menacing as he brandished a bone war club. A girl of around the same age, maybe a little younger, stood in a defensive crouch a few feet behind him. Her hand was down by her right hip, where pouch of some kind, filled with liquid, was fixed. Both wore blue clothing that had a different style and a darker shade than what the villagers used.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded. He glared at Ryan accusingly. "Why have you taken over Kyoshi Island?"

"Relax, Sokka," the warrior said. "They're our allies. Some of these men helped save the island from a Fire Nation attack."

Carwell stepped in, removing his helmet. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Peter Carwell, Allied Expeditionary Unit. Commander Suki here tells me that you're the Avatar's traveling companions?"

"Yes, we are," the other newcomer replied, having been previously silent. "I'm Katara, and this is my brother, Sokka. We're from the Southern Water Tribe."

"These two have been traveling with the Avatar for around four months now," Suki explained. "They paid us a visit not long after they began their journey."

"So you've been helping the Avatar fight the Fire Nation?" Carwell asked.

Katara nodded. "Yes. We're trying to put a stop to this war."

"Speaking of which, where is Aang?" Suki looked around to see if the airbender was hiding anywhere.

"He's in jail over at Chin Village," Sokka said. "They want to put him on trial for Kyoshi's murder of Chin the Great, what, four hundred years ago?"

"He's the Avatar. Can't he just break out?"

"Aang doesn't want to escape, Suki," Katara said. "He wants to prove that Kyoshi didn't kill anyone. That's why we came here, to gather evidence proving that she didn't do it."

"That's going to be hard." Suki smirked. "Because she actually did kill Chin the Conqueror. Three hundred and seventy years ago, on this very day, Chin came with an army to this village. He wanted to conquer us, and Kyoshi stood in his way. When he tried to attack, Kyoshi used the Avatar State to split this island off from the continent. He was standing on the edge and fell into the gap. Those idiots have probably been waiting a few hundred years to have their revenge on the Avatar."

"Oh, no." Sokka's eyes widened. "Aang really _is_ a killer."

"Not Aang, you idiot!" Katara hissed. "One of his past lives, and a really long time ago."

"He's never going to get a fair trial there," Suki said. "It'll be rigged against him."

"You know what, Katara?" Sokka scratched his head. "Maybe we _should_ break Aang out. I might have an idea on how to do it. We'll be back soon."

Carwell recalled Wuhan's impromptu lecture and the briefing papers Di Santo had drawn up concerning the Avatar. He looked Sokka in the eye, just as he re-mounted the bison. "Tell Avatar Aang that the Lost Legion has returned. And we'll soon be ready to destroy the Fire Nation."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **That was a much harder chapter to write than I expected, really. Canon characters are actually pretty difficult to nail down. At least for the OCs I didn't have to worry about character inconsistencies.**

 **This chapter stretches from "The Siege of the North" (S1's finale) to "Avatar Day" in S2. Sokka does lose his boomerang to a Fire Nation ambush in the latter episode, and that's why he's missing it here.**

 **Why is Appa twitchy? Because there's a Bird Dog aircraft on a recon mission in the vicinity. He's probably attuned to air currents and can feel something that usually shouldn't be there from miles away.**

 **So, Chapter Seventeen's a full lid. Thanks for stopping by, and catch you all for Chapter Eighteen!**


	18. Visitors (Part Two)

_1532 hours_

 _Chin Village_

The Avatar sat crosslegged on the cold stone floor, eyes scrunched tightly shut. He'd planned on asking Roku for counsel, or maybe having a talk with Kyoshi to ask how she had angered these people so much, but the spiritual energy of this place was all wrong. He'd get there eventually, but it would take time.

Aang heard the sound of footsteps on the flagstone outside his cell, and his eyes snapped open. He brightened a little when he saw Sokka and Katara. "Hey, guys! Did you find the evidence you needed at Kyoshi Island?"

"About that, Aang." Sokka bent in closer and lowered his voice. "You remember Suki, right? The leader of the Kyoshi Warriors?"

"The who made you dress up as a girl and then beat you up? Yeah, sure I do!"

Sokka scowled, but swallowed down his retort. "Yes, her. We saw her again earlier, and she told us everything we needed to hear. Avatar Kyoshi really did kill Chin the Conqueror."

Aang's mouth fell open. "She did?"

"Yeah," Sokka interrupted. "Suki said something about Kyoshi throwing Chin off a cliff after he tried to attack her. The point is, these people have been waiting four hundred years to have their revenge on the Avatar. That trial's rigged. Even if we can prove that Kyoshi was defending herself, they'll still convict you."

"They rigged it? I said I'd face justice, but this is, well..." Aang slammed his hands against the bars.

"Injustice?" Sokka prompted.

"We need to get you out of here, Aang." Katara looked at her brother. "You said you had a plan?"

"Do you know where the trial's going to be held?" he asked Aang.

"Mayor Tong said something about taking me to the place where the crime happened. I don't know what he meant by that."

"We visited the area before we left." Sokka rubbed his chin, deep in thought for a few moments. "Okay, simple plan. While the trial is ongoing, we swoop in on Appa, grab you, and head back to Kyoshi Island."

"Kyoshi Island? Shouldn't we be looking for an earthbending master?"

"We met some other people at the island," Katara explained. "They were some kind of soldiers, really scary-looking people. One of them told us to give you a message."

"He was a colonel," Sokka continued. "He said to tell you that the 'Lost Legion has returned' and they're 'getting ready to destroy the Fire Nation.' They sound like allies. Wait, Aang? Are you in there? Aang?"

But Sokka's voice was miles away, fading into the distance. For Aang, the feeling was now familiar, the feel of weightlessness as his spirit rose out of his body and through the roof of the cell.

Avatar Roku's pale form floated high above Chin Village, seated on his ever-present dragon. _"Hello, Aang."_

"Hey, Roku." Aang held up his hand in greeting. "Can we make this one quick? I'm about to be put on trial for something Kyoshi did."

 _"If it were up to me. However, it seems we may have to rely on your friend's planning skills instead. Li Han wishes to give advice about the Lost Legion."_

The spirit of the old firebender dissipated, re-forming into a graceful woman, still clothed in the deep red of the Fire Nation, but in a simpler and less ornate design than the robes Roku wore. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail rather than the elaborate style of a noble. She idly stroked the wings of a phoenix, whose head lay in her lap. _"I am Li Han. I was the Avatar almost two thousand years ago."_

"It's an honor to meet you." Aang bowed, his spirit form still suspended three hundred feet above the prison.

 _"Likewise, Aang, though I wish we had made our acquaintance in better times than these."_ Li Han gave him a kindly smile. _"Our experiences are not so different, are they? When I was Avatar, the Earth Kingdom was in chaos. So many different factions, so many warlords and vested interests. So much needless bloodshed, especially among the innocent. And even as the Avatar, I was just one girl."_

Images flashed in the air between them: rough, bearded men on ostrich horses laying waste to a settlement with earthebending, a village burning, ranks of men with bronze spears advancing on each other in a field pitted with corpses and ruins.

 _"Imbalance. The world was out of balance because of the strife in the Earth continent. And because of it an army from another world arrived. The barriers between our world and theirs had been shattered."_

"A human army?"

 _"Yes,"_ Li Han said. _"They came from another human world, similar to ours, but they claimed that benders did not exist on their side. Instead, they possessed a different kind of advantage, one of scientific progress._

Aang saw an image of soldiers arrayed in three lines. Leading the way were four solid banks of steel-jacketed men, bristling with spears and marching in perfect unison. They were facing a barrage of stones from the enemy line, but with their shields held firmly ahead, they slogged onwards with determination.

When they had gotten within a hundred feet of their enemy, they launched their javelins, a wave of them arcing from the sky to cut a swathe through the opposing force. The legionaries rushed the rest of the distance to the enemy, swords drawn, ruthlessly exploiting their foes' disorganization and slashing through them.

 _"They called themselves the Seventeenth Legion of Rome. Back in their world, they served a powerful empire, expanding and defending its borders. Now they were wandering far from home, far from anything they had ever seen before. That is why they were called the Lost Legion._

 _"With their ferocity and skill leading the way, I united the Earth Kingdom in two years and instituted the monarchy, restoring balance. I was able to open the barriers between our worlds and bring these brave men home. Soon, you must do the same."_

"How can I do that, Li Han?"

 _"These people will be crucial if you are to defeat the Fire Nation. If you have restored balance, go to the island of Guru Laghima, far to the west of here. It is the point where the two worlds are closest. I will see you again there."_ Li Han put a hand to her chest. _"Until then, good luck, Aang."_

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1346 hours_

Harry Bedford studied his map of the continent intently. He was silent for a while, noting every hilltop, roadway, settlement, and enemy outpost for a distance of ten kilometers up the coast. He had missed the whole flying bison incident earlier, having been in Shen Town for a meeting with Councilwoman Liang.

Carwell, Ryan, and Suki all found places to sit around the senior officers' quarters, now doubling as a command post. They had all been called to brief Bedford on exactly what he had missed.

"Please confirm the facts," Bedford said after he had finished with his map. "A flying bison landed here an hour ago, bearing two youths claiming to be the Avatar's travelling companions?"

"That's right, sir," Ryan replied.

Bedford turned to Suki. "Can you confirm if these people were actually companions of the Avatar, Commander?"

"Yes, sir, I can. Avatar Aang paid a visit to this island several months ago, and the two, Sokka and Katara, were with him back then."

"Did 'Aang' prove that he was, in fact, the Avatar?"

"Yes, he did, Colonel. He demonstrated his airbending skills in front of us and saved the village from a small firebender incursion."

Bedford nodded slowly. "And now they say he is in jail awaiting trial across the strait in Chin Village?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have reason to believe that he will be tried by kangaroo court?"

"Kangaroo...?" Suki asked. "I'm sorry, but..."

Bedford held up his hand. "Figure of speech in my world. Let me rephrase. Do you think that the trial will be biased against the Avatar?"

"Yes, sir. The people of Chin Village have hated the Avatar for nearly four hundred years. No matter what Aang says, they'll find him guilty for murder and execute him."

"Thank you, Commander." Bedford indicated the door. "You can leave now."

When the warrior had left, Bedford motioned Carwell and Ryan closer. "All right. Whoever this 'Aang' is, he's our way home. He gets executed, we stay here for years. We have to dig him out, and accept any risks involved."

Both Ryan and Carwell nodded in assent. Contacting the Avatar was a key objective, and now he was waiting for them just over the horizon, tantalizingly close.

"So we go and get him, sir?" Ryan asked.

"I don't like acting on short intel, but it looks like we have no choice. Gather Fox Company and tell them to be ready at a moment's notice." Bedford glanced his watch. He was calm, but his right eye narrowed slightly. "The Avatar and company have two hours. At eighteen hundred, there'll be an LST waiting in the harbor to take Fox to the mainland. Get them back."

* * *

 _Chin Village_

 _1602 hours_

"Everybody loved Chin the Great because he was so great!" Mayor Tong declared, arms outstretched on either side to illustrate his point before the elders of the village. "And then the Avatar showed up and killed him! And that's how it happened."

The leader of the village gave a slight bow before the gathered audience, wearing a malicious grin as he strolled away from the center of the amphitheater which served as the court. He took a seat on the bottom step, still wearing the smile as he studied the defendant.

"The accused will now present its argument," said the guard, a burly, unemotional man. He took a step aside.

Aang was still in lotus position on the cobblestones, eyes closed. He seemed not to notice what was happening around him, no matter how many times he had been shaken by his friends and the guards.

Mayor Tong's smile grew larger. The Avatar's companions were nowhere to be seen. For all their talk about their friend's "honor", they knew his guilt and abandoned him to whatever fate the Wheel of Justice would dictate. He hoped it would land on "eaten by sharks", but he really wouldn't mind the alternatives, as long as it wasn't community service. Maybe he could give the wheel a little nudge in the right direction later.

The big guard gave Aang a few light pokes with his staff, examined him for any signs of conciousness, then turned to shake his head at Tong.

The mayor got back to his feet. "The defendant has nothing to argue, then? We declare him guilty for the crime of murdering Chin the Great! Bring out the Wheel of Punishment!"

The crowd burst into cheers, roaring in approval. The guard threw Aang over his shoulder and carried him like a sack towards the wheel, setting him down right beside it.

"Since the accused is unable to spin the Wheel, then I, as magistrate, will do so for him," Tong announced. He reached up, tensed his shoulders, and gave the wheel a big heave.

"Torture machine!" a member of the crowd yelled.

"No, eaten by bears!" another shouted back.

"Whipped to death!"

The wheel was slowing down now, its images coming out of a blur with each rotation to be clearer with every spin. It whirled to a stop.

"Looks like it's _boiled in oil..._ "

* * *

"You think they noticed us?" Katara whispered to Sokka as they snuck through the village's streets. The houses were empty, and the paths devoid of activity. Everyone was gathered at or around the ampitheater, watching the trial.

"I don't think so." Sokka backed up against the wall of a house, checking to see if anyone was within earshot before continuing. "It's their first real chance in four hundred years to set the real Avatar on fire instead of a big statue. They have other things to be more excited about than us." He pointed to a street to the right. "This way."

Hurrying along the path leading to the edge of the village, they ducked into the brush beyond the town limits. Appa was waiting for them a quarter mile beyond the outskirts, hidden in a clearing out of sight of Chin.

They pushed through the canebreak, trying not to make too much noise, but the going was slow. The grass was six feet high and scratched like a hundred miniscule thorns at once.

Sokka struggled through the tall grass, swatting frustratedly at a cut which the scrub had opened just above his right knee. Beside him, Katara lost her balance, falling into a thicket. The bunched cane sprang back, knocking her sideways into her brother.

"Ow! Watch it, Katara!"

"Whose idea was it to go through here in the first place?"

"It's not too far now to Appa." Sokka reached out and hauled Katara back to her feet. "Anyway, it's a long walk if we tried to find a way around."

Sokka took another step, pushing aside the grass with his war club. Through the thick vegetation. they could already see Appa grazing placidly beyond the field of cane. "See? There he is..."

A tremor shook the ground beneath them. Katara thought it was just the aftereffect of her fall, but the vibrations were getting stronger by the second. She recognized the thudding of animal feet, headed right for their position.

Katara grabbed Sokka by the waist, dragging him backwards, deeper into the tall grass. "Shh!"

Sokka stiffened, eyes scanning the plume of dust coming closer. He dropped to one knee, motioning his sister to follow. "Stay low!" he whispered.

Komodo rhinos. Five of them, with one rider each, all in Fire Nation armor but not in standard-issue uniforms. Sokka glared at them from his hiding spot. They were the ones who had ambushed his campsite and forced him to abandon his boomerang.

The riders formed a semicircle around Appa, various weapons at the ready. Their leader, a solidly-built soldier, bald except for a ponytail, had his hands up in a preparatory stance. His men spread left and right of him. One had an arrow nocked on his bow, another swinging a metal chain as his mount edged closer to the bison.

Appa took a step back, baring his rounded teeth. He lowered his horns towards the cavalrymen, a low growl rising from his throat.

"That's the animal our fugitives rode this morning," the archer said. "Looks like they're hiding in town."

"The Avatar." The leader of the group pulled the reins of his rhino, and it stepped sideways. "Yeh-Lu!"

"Sir," acknowledged a masked rider with a wood-encased stick of blasting jelly in his right hand.

"Ride to Captain Lai's garrison immediately and tell him to bring his troops here as fast as possible. We need all his available men to take this town."

"At once." The masked soldier replaced his charge in its leather bag and turned his rhino around. With a flick of the reins they were at full gallop, churning up dirt as he disappeared back north.

The firebender pointed at Appa. "Slay the beast. His head will make a fine trophy for our quarters."

His fist came back, ready to launch a searing jet of flame. The archer drew back his bowstring, and the two remaining riders closed in, one swinging a chain, the other raising a curved blade.

Appa let loose a gust of air from his mouth. It met the firebender's blast, deflecting the flames upwards and blowing away the chain thrown at him. The rider with the sword hung off the side of his rhino, unseated by the wind and only clinging on by his reins.

It was all the distraction Sokka needed. "Katara! Take the firebender!"

He sprang out of the grass, lunging for the mounted archer with his club. His first blow landed on the cavalryman's arm, and the arrow flew harmlessly over Appa's head.

The archer grunted in pain. His right hand pulled a dagger from his hip and slashed downwards, aiming for Sokka's throat. Sokka deflected his hand upwards and drove his second blow right into the archer's chest. He tumbled backwards off his saddle.

Sokka leaped on to the komodo rhino. It wasn't happy about having a new master, and bucked furiously. He dug his heels in and grabbed on to the reins for dear life. "Stupid...animal...!"

In a desperate effort to throw Sokka off, the rhino stumbled to the left. It took him straight into the path of the chain-wielding rider. A metal chain wrapped around Sokka's club. He tried to pull it back, but it slipped out of his sweating palm and fell into the dust. "Aww, not the club as well!"

The huge, musclebound soldier swung his chain overhead, chuckling.

"That's it, big boy." Sokka gritted his teeth. "Enough."

He yanked the galloping rhino's reins to the right. The beast begrudgingly followed.

The rider in front of him sent his weighted chain sailing at him with a flick of a massive arm. Sokka flattened himself against his rhino's back just in time. He felt the air of the passing chain against the back of his neck, missing by inches.

His rhino bore down on the other rider, who tried to evade, but his reactions were too slow. The side of the rhino's upward-curving horn slammed into the chain-wielder's chest. The soldier was thrown out of his saddle, slamming into the ground rearwards. He carved a trail in the dust as he slid to a halt against a rock.

Sokka didn't fare much better. The impact sent him flying off the rhino's back, over the prostrate chain-wielder, and landed him back in the tall grass. He lay on his back for a moment, groaning. His arms and legs were bleeding with half a dozen more scratches.

He could hear the skirmish still raging in the clearing, the splash of water and roar of fire blasts in the wind. It meant two things: Katara was still in the fight, and she was still in danger.

Sokka pushed himself upright, stumbling his way into the clearing. He had a quick glance at his surroundings. The enemy swordsman lay facedown at the base of a tree ten feet away, his head in a puddle and rhino nowhere to be seen.

Katara was to his left, still locked in a duel with the firebender. He lobbed a fireball at her, and she deflected it with a shield of ice. Steam rose up between them, boiling off into the sky.

If Sokka only had his boomerang, he could pick the rider out from here. But it was lost, probably being melted down in some Fire Nation foundry to make spearheads. He bent down to pick up his club and set off across the clearing.

Katara had found her opening. The firebender had overextended himself with a thrust of his arm. She connected with a water whip and he fell sideways, barely able keep his balance on his mount's back. The komodo rhino wheeled about, its long tail flailing in an arc towards her.

Sokka stepped forward, raising his club. He swung it outwards with both hands, batting away the tail, and sprang up towards the firebender, using the flank of his rhino as a foothold.

The firebender tried to duck, but had nowhere to go. Sokka's club crashed into the side of his head, and the he went limp, dangling upside down with his foot caught in the reins. Katara slapped the rhino's side with another water whip, and it galloped off into the brush, dragging its master along for the ride.

Sokka wiped sweat from his forehead, panting. "You all right, Katara?"

"Yeah." Katara twisted her hand, and the water swirled in midair before entering the container strapped to her hip once again. "Did you hear what they were saying?"

Sokka nodded. "This place's going to be crawling with enemy soldiers soon. We have to get Aang out now."

* * *

 _1642 hours_

The town's richest man, a merchant by the name of Ho Chien, had offered up his own expensive copper bathtub for the greatest event in Chin Village's history. It had been hauled at no small effort by four volunteers and laid the center of the ampitheater.

Beneath the tub's stand were stacks of the finest firewood they could find, dry and remarkably easy to light afire, which was done by Mayor Tong himself. The guards had the honor of filling the tub of palm oil from earthen jars passed overhead by the howling crowd.

Aang was still unconscious, and that was how the townspeople wanted him, even if his current lack of sensory abilities would somewhat lessen their enjoyment of watching him being fried alive. Everyone knew from the story of Chin the Great what power the Avatar could harness when he was so inclined, and none wanted another chunk of the mainland hewn off and set adrift.

The burly guard lifted Aang once again. The onlookers watched on, baying and cheering as he approached the tub, its contents in a hissing boil. They were so engrossed in what they were seeing that they failed to notice the shadow swooping over them until too late.

Katara's jet of water sent the tub crashing to the ground. The front of the crowd stumbled over each other to avoid the sizzling oil running towards them.

Sokka slid down Appa's back, landing on the cobblestones right beside the man carrying Aang. He ducked the guard's clumsy punch and jammed the tip of his club into his abdomen. The guard doubled over, and Sokka caught Aang under the armpits.

"Sokka, come on!" Katara called at him.

The people had recovered from their surprise and were pulling up stones, earthenware, and any other loose objects they could lay their hands on. "The Avatar is escaping! Get him back!"

Improvised projectiles rained down towards the center of the amphitheater. The throwers were roaring in rage. Katara had an ice shield up to protect her and Appa, but it was cracking with every hit. She didn't have enough water to make a thicker one.

Sokka dragged Aang towards the bison, thankful that the airbender was so light. A few of the townspeople had shifted their aim to him, and pot shards were falling all around. He looked up. The local militia filed down the steps, waving spears and axes. They would be upon Appa in a few moments.

With a heave, Sokka threw Aang across Appa's saddle. He scrambled up a second later, arm stinging from a coin thrown from the top tier.

"Hang on, hang on!" Katara warned. "Appa, yip yip!"

Chin Village shrank as the bison rose higher, until its people became tiny specks, waving their fists and screaming invectives. Their projectiles were short, looping down into the ocean below. Soon, even their voices were lost in the wind, their fury left behind. Though they didn't know it, they would have bigger problems.

Sokka pulled Aang to a safer position on the saddle, refusing to look at the town falling away behind them. "This is _by far_ the worst town we've ever been to."

Katara tugged Appa's reins, and the bison turned southwest, bound for Kyoshi Island. "Something tells me that the Fire Nation's going to be more hospitable."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1656 hours_

Fox Company was loaded for bear. They could be facing anything from a handful of angry villagers to an entire Fire Nation unit, and Ryan made the decision to bring enough supplies for thirty-six hours of high-intensity combat with provision for aerial resupply if required.

Laghima Island had been notified by a radio message sent through the circling EC-47. They had acknowledged but sent no other comment, knowing that it was up to Bedford to play his cards correctly. However, at his request they had placed the other two companies of 2nd Battalion and one of 87 Fighter Wing's squadrons on alert, just in case something went badly wrong.

Most of Fox was gathered west of Keum Village, weapons gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. Soon, Ryan would lead them to an assembly point by the harbor to the south, where a transport waited for boarding.

Bedford and Carwell sat by Kyoshi's statue, a radio set between them, waiting for the outpost on Hill 154 to report any sighting of that flying bison. The acrid smell of smoke hung in the air. Carwell craned his neck at the sky, the stub of his third cigarette of the hour searing between his fingers.

Bedford typed away at a supply report, his foot drumming a constant beat against the ground. "Any sign of them?" he asked, tearing off the page on his typewriter.

"None." Carwell removed another stick from his pack. "In any case, the outpost would spot them first."

Bedford reached for his binoculars, scanning the horizon. Seeing nothing, he laid them back down on the table. He shook his head, muttering a few curses under his breath. "I don't fucking like it, Pete."

"You'd rather be charging in there with Fox, eh?" Carwell's lips curved into a smile around the new cigarette he had inserted there. "I heard what you did in the Ardenne. You're not so expendable nowadays."

"It's almost the same situation, isn't it?" Bedford closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "We've got an objective but sketchy intel on what we're advancing into. Except this time, I'm the one who makes the call."

"If it's any consolation, Harry, I think you've made the right decision."

"I know I have. I know how important the Avatar is, I know Ryan's capable, and I know Major Borowski can handle things if needed. He's done it before, when I got wounded. An assault's the right choice to make."

"Then there's nothing you can do but wait and watch." Carwell blew out a puff of smoke. "You've made sure these men are as well-equipped and supported as possible."

"I understand that." Bedford's head came back up, and his face was more tired than Carwell had ever seen it. "But I don't want to write any more letters. Not after Belgium."

The radio on the table crackled with static, then a voice came on the line. "Trumpeter, this is Fox Red."

Bedford grasped at the handset. "Come in, Fox Red."

"We have visual on a flying object at zero-eight-zero, altitude around four hundred feet and descending over the island. Object appears to be the animal spotted earlier. Object is carrying three passengers, which do not, say again, do not look hostile."

"Copy that, Fox Red. Maintain visual contact on them until they land. Trumpeter out."

Carwell had borrowed the binoculars. "Those are the two kids in blue clothes we saw earlier. They have another passenger with them."

"Could it be the man we're looking for?"

"Possibly. Looks a little..." Carwell squinted, twiddling the knob on the binoculars to focus it. "...young, I should say. Let me approach them first. They know me."

The flying animal touched down fifty feet away, much to the delight of the entire village. They swamped the white bison, hands reaching up to the people it carried. The Kyoshi Warriors stepped in to corral the crowd, eventually getting them to part. It allowed Bedford to get his first good look at his visitors.

* * *

Katara helped Aang step off Appa. He was still a little shaky, having just woken up from the vision he'd received. She held his left arm, allowing him to prop himself up with his glider staff.

Most of the greenshirts who had been present at their last visit were out of sight, which was for the better. Katara had a feeling that those weapons pointed at them weren't for airbending. Only two of the soldiers were there now.

The closest was the strangely-named man, Carwell, who'd described himself a lieutenant colonel earlier. He was tall, towering over Sokka, and had an easy, genial way of speaking as he began his introductions.

The other greenshirt drew closer. Katara felt tension in how he walked, like a wolf ready to spring. One of those long weapons was slung on his right shoulder, and on his back he carried an odd metal box with wires and knobs poking out. It wouldn't have been out of place in that inventor's workshop back at the Northern Air Temple.

He was much shorter than Carwell and had a lean, wiry build, reminding Katara of Bato, her father's second-in-command. On a hunt, he could walk untiring for mile after mile over the ice and snow, even when the rest of her village's warriors had all given up.

The soldier studied the new arrivals without a word, briefly glancing Sokka to Katara before his gaze settled on Aang. His eyes traced Aang's tattoos, then stopped on his face. An eyebrow went up.

"This is Colonel Harry Bedford," Carwell said. "He's the officer in charge of the Allied Expeditionary Unit's detatchment here. Harry, this is Sokka and Katara, the Avatar's traveling companions, and this must be..."

"Aang." The airbender smiled and bowed. "I'm the Avatar. It's an honor to meet people from another world. Avatar Li Han told me a little about the Lost Legion."

Bedford exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. His face remained impassive, but his shoulders relaxed a little. He reached for the metal box he carried, producing a tubular object connected to it by a wire.

He raised it to his ear. "Fox Six, this is Trumpeter. Stand Fox down."

The curious look Sokka gave Bedford made way for astonishment. His mouth gaped as the box began _talking_. Garbled, metallic words issued out, some he could just barely understand, but most totally incomprehensible.

Aang and Katara also stared at it, transfixed. "What...what's talking?"

Carwell noticed their reactions and chuckled. "Nothing to worry about. In our world, we figured out how to communicate over distance around a hundred years ago. Very useful in war."

"Bird Dog Three, this is Trumpeter," Bedford continued, ignoring the people in front of him for the moment. "Message to Orchestra as follows. Subject Able has presented himself to Trumpeter. Recovery operation aborted. Stand down, say again, stand down all involved units. Trumpeter out."

Bedford hung the tube on the metal box once again, and he inclined his head in response to Aang. "Apologies, I had to attend to an urgent matter. Now, shall we head inside to talk?"

* * *

 _1710 hours_

The meeting was held in Bedford's quarters, behind closed doors and shuttered windows. There was no sense in letting information out early. The gathered group was kept small for now, just between the Avatar, his companions, and the two most senior American officers on the island.

"An explosion?" Aang had his eyes on Carwell's rifle, listening to the Ranger explain its workings.

"Yes, an explosion." Carwell said. "You've seen a blowpipe before, right?"

"Yes." As Monk Gyatso had taught, a hollow bit of straw and some airbending could do a fair amount of mischief. He'd had great times with Bumi pelting the postmaster's house in Omashu with rocks and wads of paper.

"Same idea, but you need a steel chamber to bear the explosive power. And instead of sharpened darts, we use these." Carwell brandished a rifle round. "Once you trigger the explosion, the energy takes the easiest way out, propelling this forward with considerable force and accuracy."

"Your world uses it for war?" Aang remembered the visions of the first Lost Legion with their armor, swords, shields, and spears. These people used small machines to do their fighting.

"Why not?" Carwell rested his Springfield rifle against the wall of the hut. "They're powerful, easy to use, and precise. They've served our world's armies in various forms for four hundred years."

Aang was grim. "And how many people have died because of your world's inventions?"

"Far too many to count, Avatar," Bedford replied. "In the war just gone, seventy million died in six years of fighting."

"Thousand," Sokka interrupted. "You mean seventy thousand."

"No." Bedford shook his head. "You heard me right."

* * *

 _Chin Village_

 _1715 hours_

The masked cavalryman sat squarely on his rhino, trotting through the forest at the head of a column of infantry. He whistled a sprightly tune, encouraging his mount onwards with a pat on the flank. She was a tough old beast, but it had been a long day of riding. Some fresh meat would be in order after this last task.

They emerged into the clearing where the other riders were supposed to be waiting, and Yeh-Lu pulled up short. He had expected them to be in the process of cutting up that flying bison or preparing their weapons for the main attack.

The bison was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the other four komodo-rhinos. The clearing was scarred by bending and various marks from melee weapons. In the corner was a figure kneeling over two others.

"Vachir!" Yeh-Lu dismounted, flipping up the visor of his helmet. The archer was tending to two of the other riders. "What happened?"

Vachir turned around. There was a nasty purple bruise on his chest, peeking out where he had loosened his robe to check it. "Ambush. Looks like they came from the direction of town and jumped out of the tall grass right after you left. Two of them, one a waterbender. She knocked out Kahchi and whipped Colonel Mongke's rhino. He got dragged off into the forest. I haven't looked for him yet."

"I warned him that his mount was skittish," Yeh-Lu snarled. " The bastard didn't listen, did he?"

"A boy came for me. Nonbender, but he was a good fighter and had surprise on his side. He unseated me and smashed into Ogodei. Took the trunk of the horn to the chest. I don't think he's feeling well. The two of them took the bison and flew off. The Avatar's probably long gone."

A healer from the company ran up and dropped to his knees to administer to the two riders lying on the ground. He gave the swordsman, Kahchi, a quick once-over, but determined that the waterbending had merely dizzied him and moved on to the chain-wielder.

He ran a hand over Ogodei's torso, then put an ear down to listen to his wheezing breath. The healer nodded to himself and withdrew a vial from his bag. "Drink this for the pain."

"What are his injuries?" Yeh-Lu asked.

"Ribs, sir. He's fractured several. He's very lucky that they didn't splinter entirely and penetrate his lungs or heart. He'll need some rest for a while."

Captain Lai, the infantry commander, stood Yeh-Lu. "Should we continue the attack or withdraw?"

"Vachir, can you walk?"

The archer stood up with a wince, limping over to where his quiver lay. "Just about. I can take a few villagers."

"No. Listen, you stay here, look for Mongke. He can't be far." Yeh-Lu's visor dropped back down over his face and his head rose, surveying the town to the south. He dipped into his supply bag, thrusting aside the curved steel boomerang he'd taken as an interesting spoil from his previous battle. His hand emerged with a stick of blasting jelly. "Don't worry. These savages will soon learn why sheltering the Avatar was a bad idea."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1718 hours_

"I don't understand." Katara's hands clutched the side of her head . "How could your world invent things like this? Why are you people so brutal?"

"Necessity," Bedford said. "Our worlds developed differently. Yours has bending, ours does not. Your warfare developed to be shaped around benders. We had to be more innovative. Combine that with a far larger number of people, and you get casualties. But not all of our advancements were made just for killing."

On the table, he laid an old recon photo of a Fire Nation unit out on maneuvers. The three of them all leaned in for a closer look, and Sokka picked it up to eyeball it from all of three inches away.

"That's an enemy infantry regiment on maneuvers forty miles southwest of Ba Sing Se," Bedford explained.

"How did you...?" Sokka waved the photograph. "How is this possible?"

"We have eyes in the sky. Your bison isn't the only way to have sustained flight in this world since we arrived. This picture was taken from a height of twenty thousand feet."

Sokka scratched his head. "I didn't know gilders could reach that far up."

"Imagine a large glider, with long wings and a compartment for passengers." Bedford knew it was simplistic, but it was the best explanation he could think of. "Now add an engine to it, a smaller kind to what the Fire Nation uses in their ships. That's what we call an airplane.

"We use them in several capacities. Some are armed with guns and explosives, others can carry soldiers and supplies, and the rest we use for scouting. This picture comes from a scout airplane. They carry a special device, which uses light to record anything it sees like an artist making a sketch."

"Unbelievable." Sokka muttered, letting the photo flutter back down to the table.

Aang was contemplative, allowing his friends to ask all the questions while he listened attentively. In the lamplight, his tattoos glistened, almost as if they were glowing. He bowed his head, deep in thought.

"We'd like to go home, Avatar," Bedford said. "My men deserve to enjoy the peace which they bled themsleves dry for.

"I understand that a similar peace is needed here to achieve it. The Allied Expeditionary Unit is prepared to use our resources to deal a decisive blow to the Fire Nation, destroying their warfighting capability and ending the conflict. That's what's required to restore balance, yes?"

"Yes," agreed Aang. "Li Han told me that once balance is restored, she'll show me how to bend the barriers and bring your men back home. But whatever you're going to do, it has to be quick. At the end of the summer, Sozin's Comet will appear. Firebenders are going to gain a lot of power, and they'll be unstoppable. If they aren't defeated by then, the world will forever be out of balance."

"Not good." Bedford absorbed the information. The sinking feeling in his gut was all too familiar now, just like when he'd been told that the 505th was in the center of the line during that counterattack in Belgium. Major General von Weiss' two-year campaign was out the window, leaving only one alternative, but even that was cutting it very close.

Bedford locked eyes with Carwell. No words needed to be spoken. His friend responded with a grave, understanding nod. They would both be in the thick of the fight when it came.

"We'll figure something out." Carwell's voice was confident, more than Bedford felt now he knew that the AEU's only viable plan had no more room for error.

* * *

 _Hill 154_

 _1937 hours_

Ryan picked his way up towards the top of Hill 154, flashlight in hand. It was easier climbing in the dark ever since the engineers had installed a rope line on either side of the path.

The sandbagged outpost was lit dimly, with only a small lantern providing any illumination. They did, however, have a powerful searchlight and a communication line with the mortar battery south of the pass, which was equipped with parachute flares to turn night into day.

Ryan ducked beneath the awning. "Evening."

"Good evening, sir." A private put down a battered old novel which had been circulating Fox Company since England and threw up a salute. The rest of the squad, who were crowding the sandbags to gawk at something outside, noticed Ryan little late and sheepishly followed suit.

"What are you all looking at down there? Are there women walking down the beach? If there are, I want to see 'em too."

"No, Captain," Sergeant Bell responded. "Looks like there's a pretty big fire out on the mainland.

"Can you show it to me?"

"Clear some goddamn space for the Captain," the squad leader snapped at his men. "You've seen it plenty already."

Ryan nudged his way to the front. The horizon glowed a deep orange, almost like sunset, but he was looking northeast and the sun had gone down almost two hours ago. A closer inspection revealed the thick, hazy clouds of smoke boiling up from the ground, forming a black curtain which loomed high over the cliffs of the continent.

"Looks pretty bad, Captain," Bell said. "We're not sure if that's a town or if our neighbours got a major forest fire on their hands."

Ryan pulled out his compass and shined his flashlight down on it, comparing the bearing of the blaze to the map tacked onto a supply crate. Zero-seven-seven. He doubted if it was a coincidence.

"It's a town, all right. That's Chin Village. We were supposed to be capturing it right now."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **You wanted canon divergence, you've got canon divergence. Looks like Sokka will have to part ways with his boomerang for a little while longer.**

 **I can't remember if the Rough Rhino riders' names are ever mentioned on the show, but the Avatar Wiki very conveniently has their names.**

 **Did I make the Chin villagers a little too assholic? I really got that impression from them, and who knows what would've happened in canon if the Fire Nation didn't show up? Well, they did get the Air Temple treatment.**

 **I spent quite a bit of time figuring out what radios the AEU were using. Bedford carries around an SCR-694, (the guy should really bring along a radioman, though,) which can reach up to 15 miles with voice and 30 miles using Morse Code.**

 **Thanks for sticking around. Catch you all next time for Chapter Nineteen!**


	19. Visitors (Part Three)

_March 24th_

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _0821 hours_

The engineers had built the target as planned, randomly placed between six and seven hundred yards down the firing range. It was a mock emplacement lined with logs and sandbags four feet high on all sides, twelve feet square and roughly in the shape of a rectangle. Four wooden practice targets sat inside the perimeter, a burlap awning strung over them as a final touch.

Three paratroopers drew up to attention when they saw Bedford. They had been told to bring their mortar to the range at 0815 and prepare for some live fire. Two boxes of shells were open by the berm, which designated the firing line.

"This is the range," Bedford was saying to Aang, Sokka, and Katara. "We practice our shooting here."

"It's goes on pretty far." Sokka shielded his eyes with his hand to block out the glare of the sun. "Can your guns reach all the way?"

"The range is over two thousand feet long. An expert shot can hit a target at three thousand or more, though most of our combat happens from six hundred to nine hundred feet."

"Wow. I'm so glad you're on our side." Sokka grinned brightly, ignoring the look Katara gave him. His sister's lips were pinched together, hands on her hips as she eyed Bedford's soldiers warily.

"At ease," Bedford told the three paratroopers, then addressed the Avatar and his friends. "This is Corporal Reilly and Privates Lott and Trevino. Together, they operate a mortar."

"What's a mortar?" Sokka asked.

"This." Bedford pointed to what looked like a thick pipe propped up on two spindly legs. "It gives you the power of a battery of Fire Nation catapults. Light enough to be carried by one man and quite accurate. Reilly?"

The corporal recognized it as his cue. He muttered an order to his two subordinates, who lifted the mortar up onto the berm and bolted the tube down to the baseplate.

Reilly knelt down and glanced through the mortar sight, making sure it was on the correct bearing to the dummy fortification. "Six-fifty, five rounds, HE!"

Lott cranked the mechanism to lower the mortar's elevation, while Trevino prepared the shells. A bag of booster charge was clipped onto the tailfin of each one, giving the shells the propulsion to travel a farther distance.

"Half-load!" Reilly called out.

Lott accepted the shell from Trevino with both hands and held it over the end of the tube. "Hanging!"

"Fire!"

Reilly and Lott ducked. The shell slid down the tube, struck the firing pin, and ignited. With a metallic _thump_ , it flew back out and far into the air, leaving behind a three-foot plume of smoke and propellant trailing out from the mortar.

The sixty-millimeter round landed too long, a cloud of dirt, sand, and shrapnel spewing up from the crashing impact. Sokka jammed fingers into his ears at the sound. Behind him, Aang and Katara grimaced as well. War had never been this loud before.

Reilly craned his neck to observe the fall of the round, then bent back down. "Drop two-five! Half-load!"

Lott finished his adjustments and was handed another round by Trevino. "Hanging!"

"Fire!"

The next round was a smidge short, ripping up the sandbags of the emplacement, but otherwise causing no further damage.

The corner of Bedford's mouth strained slightly as he inspected the scene with his binoculars. _Come on, boys. Don't let me down._

"Plus five! Half-load!"

"Hanging!"

"Fire!"

The third round came straight down through the awning and detonated inside, dead on target. Lott had the mortar locked on position, and the final two shells came down where the last had hit.

"Rounds complete," Lott said, just as the dust cleared on what had been the outpost.

The emplacement was obliterated, sandbags and logs thrown for several feet in all directions around a shallow crater. The silhouette targets, normally meant for rifle practice, were now wooden chips, indistinguishable from the mess.

Aang gazed meditatively at the wreckage. He stayed silent, but saw the blackened ground and shredded building materials. Such a small thing, yet so destructive.

"Good shooting, troopers," Bedford said as the mortarmen stood up once again. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." The three paratroopers put up salutes, disassembled their mortar, and marched off back towards the battery at the southern end of the pass.

"How many of these mortars do you guys have?" Sokka asked.

"Three for every infantry company. They're excellent support weapons for almost any purpose."

"You take your artillery along everywhere you go?"

"Just this type. The light weight makes them relatively easy to carry and gives our commanders more flexibility in the field. Of course, we have heavier equipment available if the mortars can't do the job."

Sokka rubbed his hands together excitedly. "This stuff's great! Just wait until the Fire Nation gets on the wrong end of them."

"What does this all...mean...?" Aang broke off, waving an arm towards the wreckage a third of a mile away. "Why did you show this to us?"

"It's a demonstration, Avatar. Just to display just a little bit of what we can do. Call it the tip of the iceberg."

Aang leaned on his glider staff, clutching at it with both hands. He needed advice, desperately needed some wisdom from the men and women who had done it all before. Then he saw again the blackened holes in the ground, caused by three nonbending soldiers and their strange contraption, and knew that none of his past lives had ever dealt with people quite like these.

Katara laid a reassuring hand on Aang's shoulder. Her expression hardened as she turned her face towards Bedford. "What do you want from us?"

"I want to go home. Getting there is up to the Avatar to take whatever steps he sees fit. You said yesterday that he's yet to be fully realized?"

"I..." Aang forced himself to tear his eyes away from the range. "I still need to learn earthbending and firebending."

"And we can give you ample time to do so, without the concern of facing the Fire Nation. You can leave that to us. We can solve each other's problems, Avatar. Isn't that true?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel." Aang shook his head. "I need time to think."

* * *

 _Headquarters of the Council of Five_

 _Upper Ring, Ba Sing Se_

 _0902 hours_

General How leaned against the back of his seat, an idle hand rubbing the chin below his thick beard as he listened to the man speaking in front of him. Though his mind wished to wander, he willed it to concentrate on the matter at hand. Of course, he would not have missed much if he had thought of other things.

The other members of the Council of Five looked similarly disinterested. The person reporting was Secretariat Rau of the Factfinding Directorate, and they'd mostly run short of interesting information ever since the Avatar's stunning defeat of the Fire Navy fleet at the Northern Water Tribe.

Ryu possessed an extensive web of informants and agents scattered across the occupied lands, and, as rumor had it, in the Fire Nation itself. Rumor it would stay, though, as Rau refused to reveal any identities, not to the Council, and not even to Long Feng.

It had been a fallow few weeks for Factfinding, however. Rau's people had struggled for anything solid, and so his report today had been rather dull.

"One final item of interest," Rau said, unrolling another scroll. He had noticed the mood of the room and was anxious to finish up. All of them had better things to do. "There's word that an enemy landing group has disappeared without a trace. No bodies recovered, no stragglers, nothing."

How straightened up and leaned forward. Not the most earthshaking of developments, perhaps, but intriguing nonetheless. "We've got nothing to do with this?"

"None. Not officially, and not from any underground movement we have contact with."

"A landing group?" General Sung wondered, two seats to How's left. "That's what, three hundred men?"

"Three landing ships armed with heavy catapults, around two hundred and fifty infantry, and a hundred ostrich-horse cavalry," How corrected. "Say six hundred all told, including ship crews."

Rau consulted his scroll again. "The group actually hasn't been heard from for four months, but their disappearance became official when they failed to report as scheduled at Hokien Harbor ten days ago."

"A winter storm could've done them in," Sung suggested.

"The most likely possibility," Rau agreed. "But it would be strange for no survivors to turn up from then until now. Anyway, my sources tell me that the group was headed by a certain lieutenant commander named Zhang Min. They go on to state that the man arrived at Hokien four months ago to take command of the Eleventh Seaborne Group. He wasn't heard of again since he set sail."

"Could we find out more about this Zhang Min?" How asked.

"It is, well..." Rau looked down at his shoes, refusing to meet How's eyes. "...possible. It may take the better part of a month to get this information, though."

"Try it, Rau. The character of a man who would lead a highly-specialized landing unit to oblivion is one that interests me. I'll wager you five silver pieces that he's of the same crop as that Admiral Zhao."

"No deal, General How." Rau slid the scroll back into its container and put it on a tray for his aide to handle. "You're not getting back what you lost to me at Pai Sho."

"Sly bastard," How grumbled.

"Why, thank you, General." Rau bowed low. "When I have the facts, this council shall be the first to know. A good day to you all."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _0932 hours_

"I don't get it, Aang." Sokka was halfway through one of the sugary puffs which had been left in their hut by the villagers. "You don't look happy about these guys."

Aang lay prone on his bed, head resting on his hands. "You heard Colonel Bedford talk."

"You're not convinced? I wasn't completely sure of it yesterday, either. Yeah, he showed us those light-sketches and described those 'airplanes' for us, but I didn't really start believing him until this morning..."

"That's not it." Aang shook his head, a hint of agitation in his voice. "I think Bedford's being honest with us."

"And because of that exploding weapon launching thing, that's what I'm thinking too."

"He called it a mortar." Aang sat up, frowning. His legs dangled off the side of the bed. "And it's things like that which make me worried."

"Worried?" Sokka repeated. He looked puzzled. "There were three people running that dinky little mortar, and they were able to blow up something two thousand feet away from us. Bedford says he has bigger stuff to play with. Let the Fire Nation worry about them. You have an army to fight them with!"

"I don't want an army," Aang said. His voice was quiet, but firm. "I'm an airbender. We don't have armies. Definitely not armies who are capable of killing millions."

"Then let them handle it. Bedford seems pretty confident. You don't have to get involved."

"And what are we gonna do? Sit back? Let all of it just..." Aang was lost for words, "...happen?"

"You know me. I'm the last guy to back down when there's Fire Nation heads to be bashed. But maybe we should cooperate with people who actually have know how to deal with a war like this." Sokka shrugged as he reached for the tray containing the rest of the sweets. "Talk to Bedford, Aang. You're the Avatar. He'll listen to you. Tell him all about your concerns. They could be valuable allies, you know. We shouldn't throw that chance away."

Aang sighed, shaking his head. "At least he's more polite than General Fong was."

* * *

Katara walked through Keum Village, a basket of fruit under her arm. She had stopped by the local market to pick up more supplies for the journey ahead, and had departed with several pounds of apples and peaches.

At this time of day, the street teemed with activity. Farmers wheeled along carts piled high with fresh produce and fishermen carried their bulging nets, chattering amiably as they went about their daily business. It was a picture Katara was used to, repeated in innumerable little towns across the world. Yet there was a different feeling in the air.

It was a moment before she knew. The people of Kyoshi Island were at peace. There were no nervous glances to the horizon to see if the enemy had arrived, no whispered questions about how the war was carrying on, and no worried talk about loved ones fighting in some distant battlefield. The men and women passing by were regular people with their minds far away from war. As everything should be.

 _How?_ Katara wondered. The island had been attacked already, not once, but twice. How could these civilians feel so secure?

Two of Bedford's greenshirts came through the gaggle, towering over everyone else. Katara stepped aside on instinct, glowering at them as they went past. They failed to notice her and kept on going.

Katara turned to watch them. Neither appeared to be on duty, since they had ditched their helmets in favor of triangular caps. Sewn on the right side of each cap was a circular blue patch, bearing the strange design of a rounded cone in white.

Both had left their long guns behind, though each wore a buttoned leather pouch on the right hip which looked like a backup weapon, far too bulky to be a knife, but too small to be a club or spear.

She expected to see deference from the people, or maybe even a little fear. The greenshirts were coldhearted killers armed with brutal weapons who had taken over their whole island, peacefully or not. But the villagers even seemed to be on good terms with these strange visitors.

Katara saw the soldiers continue onwards down the path, deep in an animated conversation with a bunch of farmers. All, whether clothed in green or blue, were laughing at a clever observation one of them had made.

The sight would never have happened in Li Gao or Omashu or in any of the towns and cities which the Fire Nation had occupied. The enemy was more concerned with keeping the population cowed and underfoot. She had thought Bedford's troops would be no different. Was she wrong, then?

Her feet had guided her, almost by their own accord, back to the house she was sharing with Aang and Sokka. She stretched out her hand absently to open, but stopped herself when she realized who was standing on the front step.

"What are you doing here?" Katara shot at Colonel Bedford, a little more harshly than she would've liked.

"I was told the Avatar wanted to speak with me again," he replied, showing no reaction to her tone of voice. "It was your brother, in fact, who delivered the message."

He knocked at the seashell-panelled door, and it slid back to reveal Aang. The airbender looked unsurprised to see the colonel and Katara in front of him.

"You said you had some questions, Avatar?" Bedford ventured.

"Yes, Colonel. Alone, if you can."

"Fine." Bedford pushed the door to open it wider. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

Katara opened her mouth to object, but Aang caught her eye, and she understood. This was Avatar business, and for some reason, he needed to be alone. Answering her personal questions could wait.

* * *

 _1116 hours_

 _Shrine Hill_

Bedford had only been up on Hill 211 once before, just a few days after he had arrived on the island. Although it could have made an excellent observation point, he had eventually decided not to touch the place.

211 was one of the handful of hills on which the islanders had built a permanent structure, in this case a temple a few hundred years in age. Somewhere in its lifetime, it had been converted into a shrine to honor the island's founder.

The locals had worked hard over the years to maintain the site. A cobblestone path wound up the hillside, extending to circle around the shrine. The screen of trees which shaded the little wooden building were carefully trimmed, opening up to the sight of the great ocean beyond.

Bedford and Aang reached the shrine. It was deserted, and they were accompanied only by the sound of their footsteps against the stones and the crash of the waves against the cliff wall far below.

"My friend thinks that your world is filled with evil men who like to kill each other with powerful weapons for fun." Aang found a stone bench which overlooked the view and took a seat. "That isn't true, is it?"

"I wish it all was that simple." Bedford placed himself beside the Avatar. "Conflict happens everywhere, and my people are no exception. Put together two billion people in over a hundred different nations, equipped with the creativity born from want, and they'll produce some very novel ways of waging war upon their fellow man."

Aang recalled Bedford's little speech yesterday. "With no benders to fight your battles."

"My world seems to have a severe lack of them. I'd say there have been none at all, though if you ask Colonel Carwell, he'd be happy to explain the life of a certain man named Moses. Since we love war just as much as your people do, we had to find another way. My force is the result of eons of experience and innovation in the science of warfare."

"How did your war start, the one you fought in?"

"Like most major conflicts, the causes of this one are pretty complicated. Explaining it all from the beginning is beyond me," Bedford shook his head. "In the end, it was greed, lust for control, and hatred which drove my world to do the most evil things we could conceive of.

"My nation, America, wanted to stay neutral, and we did it for two years. But we were dragged in, all the same. We were attacked preemptively by another nation, Japan, and we wanted to strike back.

"My unit went across the ocean to fight Germany, an ally of our attackers. They were a potent, brutal and experienced enemy, one of the most dangerous ones we could possibly fight. The powers that be decided that Germany were the priority, so they sent America's best to combat them."

"Why couldn't your nation just..." Aang struggled to finish his question, "...keep the war small? Why sacrifice more lives to fight another enemy?"

"I didn't figure out why, at first." Bedford shrugged. "I'm a professional soldier in service of my nation, a good one. When I was ordered to fight them, I did it, and my men followed, even though we had nothing personal against them. Of course, our soldiers were told how evil the Germans were, how they were almost like vicious animals instead of men. But it was all just to make us hate them. We were sent to kill the enemy, so we killed them and they killed us. And so the lives of millions were ended."

"Then why keep making war?" Aang exclaimed. "You didn't have to fight them!"

"Because what we were told was true. The German leaders were utterly cruel men. Not misguided, not well-intentioned, just evil. A wise man in my world once said that 'the difference between good and evil is the choice of cause'. The thousands of young German men we killed, no matter what kind of people they were, died for the most barbaric cause of them all."

It all came back to Bedford, the rows of the unburied rotting in the May sun and the sour stench of burning flesh, the living skeletons begging for water and the realization that Ludwigslust was just a miniscule drop in an ocean of atrocity. "Perhaps the leaders knew something that I didn't. Or maybe they were right for the wrong reasons. But our war against Germany was justified. There are times I wish it wasn't."

The rest of Bedford's expression was still impassive, but Aang saw the colonel's eyes, distant and hard as they glared at the horizon.

"So everything you told me, all your rifles and bombs and planes and mortars, everything..." Aang swallowed, "...it was necessary?"

"Yes." Bedford's answer was immediate and decisive. "Every bullet fired, every mortar shell dropped, every enemy killed. All of it had to be done."

"How bad were the Germans if you had to be that way?"

"Their leader was a man named Hitler. Now, imagine someone much like Fire Lord Sozin, willing to start the most devastating war in their respective worlds and eliminate an entire class of people."

"Sozin killed two hundred thousand people just to get to me." The airbender's voice was low and shaky. "How can anyone else be anywhere near as evil as him?"

"Tell me, Avatar. Did Sozin decide to slaughter the Air Nomads _just_ for who they were?"

Aang's hands clenched into fists at the mention of it. "I don't get what you're..."

Bedford held out a hand to interrupt. "Let me rephrase that. Did Sozin hate the airbenders' way of life? Did he attack because he couldn't stand your culture, your entire race?"

"No." Aang slowly shook his head. "He wanted me."

"Exactly. Sozin attacked the Air Nomads in an attempt to gain an advantage in the war, to remove the Avatar from the reckoning. As abhorrent as his methods were, there's logic, cold calculation, behind the decision.

"Hitler was the opposite. He ordered the deaths of fifteen million men, women, and children, all civilians. He wasted resources, time, and manpower to carry out something which would have no impact on the war he had started. The only reason it was done at all was because of hatred."

"Fifteen...million?" Far, far more than Sozin had killed at the Air Temples. A number Aang had thought was nearly beyond count. Until yesterday. "Why would he do that? Why would anyone?"

Bedford summoned his knowledge of all those briefing materials and intelligence documents which had passed by his desk after V-E Day. Finally it would come to use. "Hitler had a vision, an insane ideal of Germany set atop our world as its most powerful and prosperous nation. He believed that its people were the naturally superior race. So, he set out to rid all the lands he controlled of those he deemed inferior, undesirable.

"He sent his most loyal divisions to find these undesirables all across his new empire, and they were rounded up by the millions." Bedford had seen the pictures which had managed to make the journey west, recovered from captured offices and dead bodies. No one would know for sure just how many lay under the icy fields of Russia, Poland, and Ukraine. "The lucky ones were executed quickly."

Aang couldn't believe it. "Lucky?"

"Yes. They were the fortunate ones. The others were brought to the prison camps."

* * *

 _Keum Village_

 _1204 hours_

The stroke of noon signalled the end of the day's training for the warriors, and they broke into disorderly groups as they streamed back towards their own villages.

Most would return home to their families or head to Shen Town to unwind. Ironically, their training under Carwell had given them more free time than they were accustomed to, since many of their usual guard and patrol duties were now occupied by Bedford's men.

Normally, Suki led the way to Keum Village, but today Rena was up front, fairly springing along the path. The tassels of her headdress bounced up and down as she went along.

"You're looking happy today." Suki observed.

"I don't know," Rena said brightly. "I think I trained well today. You know the feeling, right?"

"Sure I do." Practice was usually satisfying for Suki, though today added to the slowly-growing list of exceptions. "At least someone's enjoying the trips to the range."

"Typical Rena, being a teacher's pet," Akiko observed from the rear. "She's just happy that Colonel Carwell complimented her rifle skills again."

"I'm not a teacher's pet!" Rena protested. "I just like doing well in class. It's not my fault you two can't get the hang of your rifles."

"Hey, I'm decent with the Em-One. Now, if you were talking to Suki..."

"First of all, I _do_ recall Schoolmaster Taka being overly fond of you, Rena," Suki shot back. "As for you, Akiko, you remember the last time we sparred, right?"

Akiko grimaced, unconciously feeling her back. She had nursed a bruise for a week after that one. Rena patted her on the shoulder sympathetically.

"I'd better be seeing a bit more respect for your commander from you two," Suki finished, smugly tilting her chin at the others.

"Hey, Suki!" hissed a voice from beside the arch they had just passed through.

It was the Water Tribe boy. Akiko held back a smirk. It wouldn't do to anger one of the Avatar's close companions, but hadn't looked too bad in a dress and face paint the last time she had seen him.

"I was wondering where you guys were off to," Sokka said. "I stopped by the dojo, but you weren't home."

Suki stopped in her tracks awkwardly, prompting a snort from Akiko. Rena giggled, looking from the boy to her commander and back.

"Get lost, you two," Suki snarled, nudging Akiko along. Grudgingly, they obeyed, though Rena tilted her head and gave her a little smirk as she left.

"What do you need?" she asked, when they were finally alone.

"You're pretty much the real friend I've made on this journey, apart from Aang. I just wanted to see how things were going."

"Who says we're friends?"

Sokka stared at her openmouthed for one long moment, then took a step backwards, deflated like a floating lantern on Founding Day.

"Wait!" Suki grabbed him by the arm. "I'm joking! Come on, don't take it too seriously."

Sokka chuckled weakly, but she could tell that his heart wasn't in it. "Anyway, it's great to see you again. Properly, this time, without one of those pointed at me." He nodded to the rifle slung over her shoulder.

"I've spent most of the time since you and the Avatar left learning how to use this rifle. We've been training and training. Colonel Bedford says we're important to his plans to win the war." Suki adjusted the M1's strap. "How about you? You must've been through a lot, journeying with the Avatar."

"Yeah." Sokka sighed wearily. "The last several months were pretty crazy. I've met some of the most powerful people in the world, played hide-and-seek with the entire Fire Nation, even fought in a couple of actual battles. We were at the Northern Water Tribe about a month ago, looking for a waterbending master for Aang, when they launched this massive attack."

As Suki had learned, the North Pole was supposedly a very spiritual place. Was it just a coincidence that the waterbenders' source of power had acted strange at the same time? "The moon turned red at around then. I don't suppose what happened up north had anything to do with it?"

Suki hadn't expected him to know anything of her idle curiosity, but Sokka's expression had changed, hardening and becoming more guarded. "The Fire Nation managed to kill the moon spirit. The northerners had to make a pretty big sacrifice to put it right."

She decided not to press any further. "We did fight the Fire Nation, too. They put about three hundred men ashore and tried to push through the valley towards Keum."

"Yeah, I heard. Are all the girls okay? Nobody hurt?"

"We came out fine. A couple got light burns, but no lasting injuries. Honestly, it was Bedford's men who did most of the work." The battle in the pass hadn't been a pretty sight, one which Suki would never to forget. "There were only fifteen of them here back then, but they fought like a hundred times that. We ended up taking only thirty-two prisoners. The rest were wiped out."

"It is kind of cheating to use their guns. Effective, though."

"And that's why we joined the Allied Expeditionary Unit. Us warriors are all about being effective."

" _Use their force against them,_ " Sokka quoted. "I remember."

"Yeah. Well, more like _harness the power of an explosive reaction against them_ , but you get it."

"So you joined Bedford because he had awesome weapons? I mean, who wouldn't, but..."

"No, Sokka," Suki replied. "We wanted to help. We saw you alongside the Avatar, a nonbender just like us. You were going out there to do something that mattered, while we hid in our shells like turtle-ducks. We spent several days debating, trying to figure out a way to make a difference in the war."

She remembered the heated council meetings and arguments about strategy after Aang had left the island. The council had strongly resisted the idea of the warriors entering the war, and the debates had raged for days. But eventually, with the warriors on the verge of packing up and sailing to the Earth continent with or without their permission, Oyaji and the rest had relented.

"Then Colonel Bedford came along," she continued. "He promised that we could end this war, help millions of people. It was our chance to fight for the world Avatar Kyoshi worked so hard to keep at balance. We couldn't throw that opportunity away."

"Do you really believe you can make an impact?" Normally, it it would've sounded like Sokka was mocking her, but there was no derision in his question.

"I don't see why we can't. Bedford's people...they're something this world hasn't seen before, and with us joining forces with what they already have," Suki put on a confident smile, "we could do those ash-eaters a lot of hurt."

* * *

 _Shrine Hill_

 _1215 hours_

"When we had put a stop to them, liberated the camps, it was almost too late. More than five million Jews were already dead, shot, starved, beaten, or gassed."

The breeze which blew in from the sea was pleasantly warm and the sun shined bright overhead, but Aang felt a chill creeping up the back of his spine. Bedford had explained everything matter-of-factly, as if he had heard the numbers far too many times to show any more emotion about them.

"That many people, just because of Hitler's hatred?"

"Again, it isn't that simple. Hitler was far from the first to hate the Jewish race, and he was far from the first to act upon it. But no one, not even the most fervent in their hatred, would even have imagined murder on this scale."

"So, why? Why tell me all this?"

"Because I wanted to illustrate the great evil which we had defeated, and why our methods were necessary," Bedford replied. "Now your world is facing the same problem. The Allied Expeditionary Unit can help fix that."

"And all you want from me is to learn to be Avatar?"

"That's the most important thing. Master the elements, learn all the spiritual things you need to." Bedford waved a dismissive hand. "You're clearly best judge of what you need to know. Once we have dealt with the Fire Nation, you have to open the barrier separating our two worlds and let me bring my men home.

Li Han had promised she would help, once the war was over and balance was achieved. "I think I can do that," Aang said, nodding. "But what else do you need from me?"

"In the late spring, we're sending a diplomatic mission to Ba Sing Se to ask for the Earth King's support in our operations against the Fire Nation. If we had the Avatar with us, negotiations could go smoother."

"That's it?" Aang asked, incredulous. Even with Li Han's advice that the Lost Legion were trustworthy, he had expected some kind of catch.

"If everything turns out right from here until the comet arrives. Of course, we may need more assistance from you if we need to..." Bedford searched for the right word, "...improvise."

"How about Sozin's Comet? Or the Fire Lord? How are you going to handle that?"

"We're slowly putting together a plan which, if it works correctly, could eliminate the Fire Nation's capability to make war. It would only take a few weeks of fighting, and be over before Sozin's Comet has any chance of taking effect."

"Are you going to tell me about this plan, then?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Avatar. Nothing is set in stone yet, and it could still undergo many changes before it would be actionable. Bedford shook his head. "I've done my best to explain what the Allied Expeditionary Unit is capable of, even given you a practical demonstration of our power. You can trust me on this or not. It's your choice."

Aang's first instinct was to reject the proposal put in front of him. This strange soldier had offered to take away all his problems, and it seemed much too good to be true.

But what did he have to lose? It was either he gained a powerful ally or went back to being chased around the world by the Fire Nation, racing to learn the elements before an impossible deadline.

Li Han's voice from their conversation at Chin Prison rang in Aang's head. _These_ _people will be crucial if you are to defeat the Fire Nation._ There was only one reasonable choice in this matter, wasn't there?

"I'll work with you, Colonel Bedford."

* * *

 _Keum Village_

 _1307 hours_

Appa sat by the center of the village, staying obidiently still as Sokka and Katara hauled their provisons up onto the saddle. A squad of paratroopers had formed a line to help, and baskets of food, bedrolls, and a few small bags of silver donated by the populace were handed along.

"All right!" Sokka finished tying down the bundle where the rest of his weapons were kept and slid down Appa's side to land beside Aang. He ran a hand across his forehead. It was quite a warm afternoon. "Let's get flying. What's the plan, Aang?"

"We need to find an earthbending master and convince whoever we get to come along with us. Colonel Bedford says we can practice here."

"It'll be safe to train here, Avatar," Bedford promised. He stood by Appa's tail, arms crossed. "Once you return, you can spend the next two months learning earthbending, while we prepare more detailed plans. Once that phase is done, we can move to Ba Sing Se to talk to the Earth King."

"Are you sure about returning?" Katara asked Aang as she clambered up Appa's back. "Wouldn't it be better to keep heading towards the Fire Nation to fight the Fire Lord?"

"I'm sure." Aang replied. Bedford knew he had made his decision up on Shrine Hill. "I think coming back here is the best option, Katara."

"Earthbending masters? You don't see them marked on maps." Sokka unrolled his and consulted it. "I think we should hit the big towns first. Zangdao, Gaoling maybe. They're a few miles inland. We could make Zangdao before sunset if we leave now."

"I'll be seeing you soon, Colonel Bedford." Aang thrust his staff downwards. A gust of wind blew him off the ground, sending him somersaulting through the air. He landed right on top of the bison's back with a flourish, having rumpled Bedford's uniform in the process.

"Take care, Avatar." Bedford tipped his cap at the airbender. All the worrying about recovering Aang from the mainland, and he was just going to let him go off on his own again. But the Avatar had insisted.

Sokka gave Appa's reins a light flick and spoke a command which was soon lost in the cheering and waving of the gathered residents of Keum. Soon, they were just another cloud in the sky, drifting on the tailwind towards the continent.

 _Three children,_ Bedford thought. _And one the incarnation of an all-powerful_ _demigod_. _Riding away from a military base on a furry flying animal_. He wouldn't be surprised at all if the past day had turned out to be entirely from his imagination.

On the way back to his command post, he kicked at a wayward stone, feeling the sting in his toes as he made contact.

 _Goddamn. It's real._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I was wretchedly busy throughout July, and that's not going to change until about October. But still, a day never goes by where I never think about this project. Now, onto the writing stuff.**

 **I have to note that Bedford would have a limited view of both WWII and the Holocaust itself, because he was dragged out of our world in late 1945 and wouldn't benefit from a wider-angle hindsight. I just think it would be a little unrealistic for him to know exactly as much as a modern history book.**

 **Same goes for the numbers killed in the Holocaust which he quotes to Aang. Early postwar estimates had the total at about fifteen million (three to five million Jewish deaths), while more modern ones say that the count was closer to seventeen million (with six million Jewish deaths).**

 **On a different, lighter topic, we will be seeing Laghima Island again next chapter, which should be a bit fun. From there, it's a long, long way to Ba Sing Se.**


	20. Consultations (Part One)

_March 14th_

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _0804 hours_

Bedford broke open the seal of the cardboard folder containing the latest dispatches from Laghima Island. Today's batch was a thick stack. He slid the documents from the folder, spreading them out across his desk.

The first things he concentrated on were the photographs, stapled in groups of four onto coarse paper. They were, as expected, a top-down view from a recon plane, featuring the ruins of a small town. The streets were dotted with the blurry figures of the dead, its buildings reduced to seared bricks and charcoal, the fields sustaining it blackened and razed.

The relevant description was inked below in the familiar hand of Captain Di Santo. _Chin Village, photographs taken by Bird Dog 4, 1330 hours, 3/13/46. Probable Fire Nation incursion, over 700 estimated dead, entire settlement rendered completely uninhabitable._

A second page had more pictures affixed to it. Two showed the enemy garrison at Li Gao, a few miles inland from the coast. It appeared to be fully manned. The other photos were of a long column of civilians, strung out loosely across the countryside.

 _The enemy appears to have returned to their starting positions before the battle,_ the note below read. _After the conclusion of the raid, they retreated to their garrison. Bird Dog 4 recorded no current enemy ground activity near the coast. However, a large group of people, estimated at around 3,500, was spotted moving northeast from the former Chin Village. These seem to be refugees from the FN raid._

Bedford tipped the contents of the kettle into his tin mug. The cheap, artificially -sweetened smell of standard-issue instant coffee rose up from inside. _Another day, another atrocity_ , he contemplated.

It wasn't an area of immediate concern, though. If the Fire Nation set up positions on the coast, there would be just ten miles across the strait between them and the island. It was better for them to stay inland, with Kyoshi out of sight and out of mind.

The rest of his mail was regular enough: the confirmation of recent supply requisitions, a notice of which transports were expected to arrive in the next few days, and an intelligence report on the Fire Navy headquarters at Sunrise Bay, put together by an intelligence officer stationed on the destroyer USS _Edward S._ _Martin_.

Bedford sorted through the pile to make sure he didn't miss anything urgent. Beneath the report was a single typewritten page, folded in half and secured with a green paper clip. Bedford separated it from the stack for closer inspection.

 _To Colonel Harry Bedford,_

 _Your report concerning your encounter with the Avatar has been duly noted and debated at length by the senior officers. We commend your work so far in securing an alliance with both Avatar Aang and the governing body of Kyoshi Island._

 _However, complications have arisen due to the information gained from the Avatar, specifically the so-called "Sozin's Comet". The operations plan you forwarded to us is now our most likely course of action. Completing the necessary preparations has become the main priority._

 _You and Lieutenant Colonel Carwell are urgently required at Laghima Island within the next two to three days. Consultations are to be held at headquarters regarding the extent of preparations already completed and any further measures required to be able to undertake the operation at the nearest possible time._

 _Please send confirmation of this mesage by radio, as well as your expected arrival time at Laghima._

 _Regards,_

 _Brigadier M. Swales_

Bedford checked his watch. The nearest Bird Dog window was in an hour. He rose to his feet, folding the message in half and tucking it away into one of the many pockets his jacket held. He needed to brief Carwell and Ryan.

* * *

 _0814 hours_

The new gun in Carwell's hands was probably the ugliest weapon the warriors had ever seen. It had none of the sharp elegance of the fan and the blade, nor did it possess the sturdy, solid wooden craftsmanship of the M1 rifle. Instead, it was an angular abomination of metal, almost like a sculpture of a stork created by a blind blacksmith.

"The M3 submachine gun," the Ranger explained. "Not a pretty fellow, but functional. It's a fully automatic weapon. You keep the trigger pulled, and it'll keep firing rounds until you release it or if the magazine runs empty."

He waved a long, thin case in the shape of an iron bar. It appeared to be hollow, and the warriors heard from within the familiar rattle of loaded ammunition. "We load the submachine gun with an external magazine. Unlike the rifle, you can detach the magazine easily and replace it with another. It makes loading a bit faster."

Carwell flipped open a lid near top end of the muzzle, slapped in the magazine, and racked the bolt. He tugged back on the metal stock, extending it to the fullest.

"Now, the safety on this weapon is a simple one. The lid here is called a dust cover. It helps keep foreign objects from interfering with the operation of the weapon. If the cover is down, the M3 will not fire. Open it, and you have a live weapon."

Today, the target was a simple square wood board, nailed to a post fifty yards away. Carwell swivelled to face it, bringing the submachine gun up and bracing it against his shoulder in one smooth motion.

His controlled bursts sent wooden splinters flying, the board shuddering from the impact of heavy pistol rounds. The M3 had a low rate of fire for its kind. Four hundred and fifty rounds a minute was slow enough that the metallic clatter of every successive shot could be made out. Nevertheless, the weapon was empty in under six seconds.

Carwell snapped the dust cover shut, released the magazine, and laid it back down on top of the weapons crate it had come from. "Being fully automatic makes it best for close-in combat. It's a bit lighter than your rifle and far more compact. Less of a burden to carry. It does have its drawbacks, though."

Between his index finger and his thumb, he held a spare round of submachine gun ammo for the warriors to see. "Forty-five caliber ammunition. The slug's almost half an inch in diameter, wider than the round fired out of the M1. But the round itself is much smaller than the one you load your rifles with. It fits less propellant. Less kick on your shoulder, sure, but also less range."

"How much less range, Colonel?" asked a warrior who had raised her hand.

"With a rifle, you can easily hit a target at six hundred feet. Training can get that to over a thousand. With the submachine gun, you'd probably only achieve the same accuracy out to a hundred and fifty feet. Landing shots beyond that range would be difficult in a combat situation."

One by one, the warriors received their M3s and one magazine from the row of crates which had been delivered earlier that morning care of the US Navy. Eleven of them broke off to form the first group on the firing line.

"Once you've all gotten acquainted with the submachine gun, you'll have a choice," Carwell said, moving towards the line to assist some of the warriors struggling with the new weapon. "You can carry that or the rifle into combat. It'll be up to you."

He finished his first pass down the firing line, helping several with the collapsible stock, correcting stances, and giving additional pointers on how to load the magazine properly.

Soon, every member of the first group was locked and loaded, and Carwell retreated to his former position. With an eye on his watch, he readied himself for the cacophony of noise which was about to come.

The first group performed just about as expected. Several had been too heavy on the trigger and ended up shooting the air after the first few rounds before they could recover. A few, however, had more or less figured out the proper pattern and disposed of their ammunition with more or less the same technique as Carwell, if slower. The whole process had taken around fifteen seconds.

The second group came forward to take their places, but Carwell wasn't paying attention this time. He had seen the familiar figure of Bedford approaching from the rear of the range and had signalled to Sergeant Barton to supervise for the moment.

"Morning, Pete," said Bedford as he drew near. He held out a folded letter. "Message from HQ. Concerns both of us."

Carwell took the paper in hand. "Could've sent a courier."

"Missed my morning run today, so I might as well stretch my legs. After this, I'm walking to see Ryan, too."

It was a short letter, and Carwell was done with it in just a few moments. He looked up at Bedford to confirm what he had read. "Consultations?"

The paratrooper nodded. "Can you make yourself available tomorrow? We should take the first ship back."

"Well..." Carwell glanced back at the warriors in training. "I'll need most of today to put them on the right path. First thing in the morning?"

"LST-7021 departs at 0500 tomorrow. I'll have Bird Dog tell HQ to expect us on that ship. I'll have to leave Ryan in charge."

"Looks like we both have plenty of things to do before setting off, then," Carwell remarked. "Busy day."

"Busy day," Bedford agreed. "I'd better get going. See you around."

* * *

 _Laghima Island_

 _1124 hours_

The office of the base intelligence arm had once been a humble canvas tent, providing only the barest of protection from the elements.

After a few months, Brigadier Swales deemed that the facility was inadequate. The engineers had been dispatched to remedy the fact, and after a week of dragging felled pine trees across the runway from the forests and gathering up steel supports, a reasonably permanent structure not too different from a log cabin was erected.

It was here that the latest photographs from the previous day's Bird Dog sorties were delivered, fresh from spending the night in a ramshackle dark room to develop. The box containing them was laid on a pineboard table, and the day's intelligence committee was convened.

Four men made up the base intel team, two Americans, an Englishman, and a German. Di Santo was the unofficial leader of the group, and he took it upon himself to lay the photos down on the table for the benefit of the others.

"Our main object of interest today," said Di Santo as he put down the last photo, "is Production Facility Item. We need to figure out whatever it is the enemy manufactures there."

The other three automatically glanced at the map of the Fire Nation fixed to the wall. It was dotted with thumbtacks, every one denoting a crucial part of their infrastructure. Of the marks, nine made up the industrial complexes, each the size of a regular town.

From the nine enormous complexes came the equipment which powered the enemy war machine. A web of roads and rail lines brought in the raw materials and brought out the finished articles, ready to be transported to the front. The system would need to be crippled to really hurt the enemy.

The team had already discovered what eight of the factories, designated Able through How by the phonetic system, contributed to the war effort. They produced tanks, catapults, ships, armor, and infantry weapons, or refined the steel which made the other industries possible. The ninth, Item, was still a mystery. Bird Dog had flown more sorties to give the intel team more data to work with.

Item was the newest of the sites. Recon had first observed it being finished by Fire Nation builders around January, and it had only begun operations in March. It was located around twenty miles north of Royal Caldera City, beside a small lake in a mountain valley, and was surrounded by a brick perimeter wall, giving the compound a roughly rectangular shape broken only by the railroad track which cut through the landscape to connect it to the outside world. Five vast buildings, each the length of a football field and about as wide, lay side by side within the perimeter, chimneys belching dark smoke into the sky. Whatever went on inside, it required power and probably machinery.

What really set Item apart from the others was situated across the compound from the buildings. Rows of large cylindrical tanks sat there, not dissimilar in size and shape to the containers used by the Navy and the RAF to house gasoline.

Unlike the ones used for fuel storage, however, these appeared to be made from clear material, probably thickened glass. The tanks were grouped in twos, a large tank and a smaller tank, connected by a U-shaped pipe on top. This arrangement was repeated twelve times, spaced in a grid of four by three.

"Input?" asked _Hauptmann_ Clemens Schatz. He was the Germans' equivalent to Di Santo.

Di Santo pointed to an overhead shot which showed the contents of one of the railway carts servicing the facility. "Looks like metal framing. Girders, railings, maybe."

"Output?"

"Doesn't seem to have any." Di Santo produced another photo. "Trains head there full, come back out empty."

"It might be a factory for construction materials," Lieutenant Henry Carson said dryly. The Navy man from USS _William Gardner_ shrugged. "Looks like some kind of assembly point."

"Of what?" Di Santo wondered. "Too far from the ocean for a shipyard, doesn't have the right inputs for vehicles, and pre-fabricated steel framing doesn't make swords."

"Perhaps a melting point for scraps?" ventured Schatz.

"I don't think so." Di Santo traced the rail line with his finger. "They're getting the parts straight from Production Facility Charlie, the metalworking plant at Jang Hui. The specialized stuff is coming a pretty long way."

Flying Officer Ledley Brooke squinted through his magnifying lens, shifting his gaze to make out what he could. As the airman of the group, he was the most adept at picking out objects from grainy reconaissance images. "Wait a moment." He tapped the overhead of the tank grid. "Are those...lightning rods?"

The others leaned in for another look. Brooke was right. From the cap of each large tank jutted a pole, six iron rods reaching towards the clouds.

"What the hell do they need them for?" Carson asked. "The tanks ain't tall enough to attract lightning on their own. I'd get it if they equipped the buildings with rods, but the tanks?"

"They would be endangering their own manufacturing process," Schatz said. "Attracting lightning to strike their own machinery is...how do you say?"

"Counterintuitive?" Brooke put in.

The German bobbed his head. "That sounds right."

"Potentially damaging their equipment would be a bad idea, unless..." Di Santo's face lit up in realization, and he waved a declarative finger. "Unless the lightning is part of the process."

Carson, Brooke, and Schatz stared at him, puzzled.

"I get it now," Di Santo continued. "The FN can't generate their own electricity artificially, right? They still haven't figured it out. And now they've built a brand new production facility with no discernable output yet, right in a valley shielded by mountains. There's no way you can see it except from the air."

"A secret project?" Schatz asked. "Like the _Vergeltungswaffe_ series?"

"I doubt a country without so much as a musket could make the Doodlebug, Clemens. But, yes, I'm thinking they're developing new hardware, and they need electricity for the process."

"If we find out what's in the tanks, we may be able to see what Facility Item's doing," Brooke said. "Then we could task some fighter-bombers when the time comes."

Schatz examined the photograph Brooke had been using before. "I believe the enemy is attempting some sort of chemical process."

"Petroleum?" suggested Carson.

"Doubt it," Di Santo said. "You'd think we'd have picked up at least one drilling operation or rig somewhere in their controlled territories if they knew how to use oil."

"Gentlemen, I think we should bring Captain Barry in on this," said Brooke. "I'd be happy to fetch him myself."

"Good idea." Di Santo looked at Carson and Schatz, who both nodded in assent. "If you don't mind going through the trouble."

* * *

 _1153 hours_

Captain John Barry, helmet under arm, stepped into the shade of the office. He accepted the offer of a chair, settling into his seat tiredly.

He was the provisional company commander of the Home Guard engineering unit, a man of forty-three with graying hair, dirt-caked olive fatigues, and an pair of wire-framed glasses dangling from his ears, the bridge wrapped in frayed duct tape to keep it from snapping in half.

"Care for a cigarette, Captain Barry?" Di Santo held one out to the engineer, who took it. Brooke reached over to light the stick.

"Much obliged." Barry took a deep drag. "This construction business can be tiring at times. Now, what would you intelligence types want with me? I haven't left this island for almost half a year. I can't have told the wrong person the wrong thing, no?"

"None of that," Di Santo assured him. "We just want your opinion on some reconnaissance photographs we have of an enemy production site."

Barry raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure you want me? I'm not the right kind of engineer. We build things by the manual. I wouldn't know anything about factories."

"No, Captain Barry," said Brooke. "We need the expertise from your other profession. You once told me a few months ago over mess that you were a chemist. Is that true?"

"Not the type who mixes medications at a pharmacy, if that's what you mean. Before the war, I taught chemistry at a secondary school near Dover."

"That'll do us just fine, Captain." Di Santo slid the photographs over to his side of the table. "An enemy facility, hidden in the middle of nowhere. We have reason to believe that they're attempting some kind of chemical reaction."

Carson took over the rest of the explanations, pointing out the glass storage tanks, the materials coming in, the mass of piping, and the lightning rods. The engineer studied every image, blowing out a meditative plume of smoke as he sorted through the pile.

"What's this?" Barry pointed to an object outside the compound, down by the lake. It was around the size of a regular house, meaning that it was dwarfed by the factory to its east.

"It's a pumping station," Brooke said. "To supply the facility with water."

"And the other factories, did they need water piped in for their industrial process?"

"No," Schatz responded. "This is the only one with a supply of water."

Barry took the magnifying lens in hand to scrutinize the tanks "Then it could be safe to assume that these containers hold water from the lake."

"Why the lightning rods?" Di Santo asked. "What purpose do they serve?"

Barry stubbed out his cigarette and rubbed a palm against his forehead, staring blankly at the wall for a few moments. His eyes lit up. "Electrolysis."

"Pardon?" Brooke said.

"It's a method of separating water into its component elements, hydrogen and oxygen. First, you mix any kind of electrolyte in, be it salt, vinegar, or potassium hydroxide, to let the water conduct electricity. Then you pass a current through the solution, and the reaction splits the water into hydrogen and oxygen gas. The gases exit the reaction chamber and flow through the pipe on the top into the second chamber, where they mix to form oxyhydrogen."

Di Santo scribbled furiously on a notepad. "And what does oxyhydrogen do?"

"It's a very volatile mixture. Normally, it's used for metalworking, because it generates such high temperatures as compared to regular air."

"Could you create a military-grade explosive with it?"

"The gas is certainly portable and has the yield," Barry adjusted his glasses to rest easier on his nose. "But it's very unstable, especially if they're being handled by those firebender people I keep hearing of. One spark, and you're gone. That's why it's a logical decision for them to keep the reaction tanks outdoors. A single leak in the apparatus, letting the gas build up over time in an enclosed environment...it would be inadvisable."

"So, the enemy has access to explosive gas?" Brooke said. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Well, they have an idea of how to produce the gas, but there are deep flaws in their understanding of the process. For the available technology, their progress is quite impressive, but they have some way to go yet."

"How so?" Di Santo asked.

"I see three main flaws." Barry smiled, and at that moment, it was easy to imagine him as a professor, lecturing a crop of learners in a laboratory. "First, the lightning rods. Electrolysis depends on a constant flow of electrical energy through the substance. Lightning contains a very high amount of energy, but only for a split second. You'll only be electrolyzing miniscule amounts of water with every bolt. Very inefficient.

"Secondly, the design means they can only end up with oxyhydrogen and nothing else. Hydrogen and oxygen are far more useful when separate."

"Can they not just process the oxyhydrogen again?" Schatz suggested.

"It's more complicated that way, probably beyond their capabilities. The simpler method, you see, is to separate hydrogen and oxygen during the reaction itself." Barry found a pencil in front of him and hunted around for a piece of paper. Brooke handed him the back of an old report.

The engineer quickly drew up a crude rectangle, shading it a little with the graphite. "This is the reaction chamber, containing the water-and-electrolyte solution. Above is your lightning rod..." he drew a spike on top of the rectangle, then a coil trailing down underneath it, "...and your grounding wire.

"At the point where the current enters the solution, hydrogen forms. Where it exits to the grounding wire, oxygen forms. With a different design, you could easily take whichever element you wanted from these points, but here, they'll end up all jumbled in the storage tank."

"That's two flaws, Captain," said Carson, having kept count on his right hand. "What's the third one?"

"Glass tanks." Barry chuckled a little, as if he had received an absurd response from a pupil. "The most basic error of all. At the volumes we're talking about, glass simply cannot hold up to the buildup of pressure. Their tanks are only extant because their reaction process is so inefficient. Once they've built up a significant volume of gas..." he made an expansive gesture with his arms. "All that work, wasted."

Di Santo shuffled his notes. "So, you're saying this facility is destined to become a failed experiment?"

"That's correct, Captain. In a way, I sympathize with their boffins. They're clever, and they may still get it right in the future." Barry shrugged. "But for now, I'd let them keep making their own mistakes."

* * *

 _March 15th_

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _0519 hours_

The island was still cast in shadow when LST-7021 pulled away into the dark seas, westward bound. The fifteen-hour journey to Laghima was underway.

Bedford was unaccustomed to this type of transport. The deck beneath his boots pitched and bobbed on the waves far more than he felt it should. It was an uncomfortable sensation, to say the least. As he leaned against the bow railing, he briefly imagined how the LST handled in the choppier seas of the winter season. The thought made him queasy.

The click of a lighter and the glow of a Lucky Strike's tip by the stairwell announced Carwell's arrival, though his tread was light on the metallic flooring. He spotted Bedford by the railing and went to join him, fatigues flapping loosely in the early morning breeze.

"Not a good idea to light one below," Carwell explained, holding up his cigarette. "It reeks of fuel inside. Everything'd explode."

"I really don't mind it. It's the speed we're currently at which I'm concerned about." The transport ambled along at a measly twelve knots, little more than a third of what USS _Langley_ could manage.

"Of course you don't mind, Harry. Almost like being home for you, eh? In your C-47, filling your lungs with gasoline fumes, with flak going off all around."

Bedford lifted his chin towards Carwell's cigarette. "Better gas than tar."

"I take it that you kicked the habit? Good on you."

"I made the decision right before we jumped into Salerno." Bedford winced a little at the memory. It hadn't been fun. "It was hell for the first several weeks."

"Fighting the SS in some Italian field while itching for a smoke? Lord help me, but I'm too weak a man."

"It's a small price to pay. I'll be damned if I can't keep up with the younger troops."

"Good thing that the people I went into Germany with were all old hands." With a desultory flick, Carwell's glowing stub flew over the side. "They'd understand if a man needed to calm the nerves."

Bedford turned away to watch the starboard side. To the north, the outline of a craggy landmass loomed above them, its overgrown and wild vegetation glistening in the dew of the early morning. Lighthouse Point, it had been nicknamed by the ship crews.

While it gave no illumination, it was an important landmark. As the easternmost point of the Kowa Archipelago, a two-hundred-mile string of uninhabited islands, it had become the unofficial southern boundary of the Fire Nation's authority.

The enemy maintained no outposts out here, and patrols were rare. It was a waste of time and resources, especially when the front lines in the Earth Kingdom remained a crude, snail-paced impersonation of the Great War. The area past the Kowa chain was far removed from the main action, held nothing of strategic importance, and was inconveniently cold and desolate in the winter months. To the Fire Nation, it was simply barren, uninteresting, useless. And so they remained ignorant of the US Navy supply route which had sprung up in the shadows of their dominion.

These parts hadn't always been devoid of life. According to Wuhan, the sky had once been filled by throngs of airbenders as they roamed the world on their nomadic travels. Novitiates taking upon their instruction had soared with their gliders on the winds above, flying bison ranged freely from the nearby temple, and masters, trained in decades in spiritualism, journeyed to Whaletail or Laghima Island to meditate and seek wisdom.

They had built for themselves a peaceful society, founded on detachment from earthly desires. Two hundred years ago, it had been in its height. But that heyday was gone and their presence in the sky had been replaced by people with far less peaceful intentions. Only the charred rubble of their civilization was left behind for the Royal Air Force to find, and only the Southern Water Tribe, isolated upon its sheet of ice, held any sort of human existence at this latitude.

In the meanwhile, the sun had crawled its way over the horizon. Without the hilly terrain of Kyoshi Island to block its path, the morning felt like it had arrived faster. Soon, the sea glittered by the waterline of the transport, and the chill in the air began to dissipate.

"Long time since we've ridden a ship without a proper name," Bedford said, dismissing his thoughts and relaxing against the railing.

"That was...what, about a decade and a half ago now?"

"Thirteen years," corrected Bedford. "A few months after we ended up in the P.I."

"I remember it now. The boat trip run by that Chinese gentleman." Carwell blew smoke into the wind. They had been two green second lieutenants then, assigned to regimental staff in the Philippines. On a forty-eight hour leave, they had, ill-advisedly, spent some of their pay on a day-long tour of the seas past Manila Bay.

"A little warmer," Carwell remarked, "and it's just like being back there again."

"Food's better here, and that's saying something," Bedford pointed out. That Chinese fellow fed us something pretty close to pig slop."

"He did? It's been a long while. I can't even remember what I had for breakfast the day before yesterday."

"Trust me, you would've remembered what they served up if you hadn't been..."

Carwell pounded his fist against the railing. "How could I forget? I got drunk."

"Without even providing any entertainment!" Bedford threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "You fell asleep. Could have vomited or punched somebody, and maybe that would've repaid me for having to drag your sorry ass back to Fort McKinley."

"For the tenth time, I apologize for not meeting your lowly standards of humor while intoxicated."

"Been a while since I last brought it up." Bedford smiled at the memory. "Almost a blot on our records, that one. Good thing Major Bagley never found out."

"Drunken carousing? For two officers on his regimental staff? We'd have been lined up against a wall and shot." Carwell sighed. "Oh, for the days before command responsibility."

* * *

 _Grid square 4BTH324179_

 _Production Facility Item_

 _Hu Leng Valley, Fire Nation_

 _0912 hours_

War Minister Qin beheld a skeleton of steel, and was quite impressed. Of course, the schematics had crossed his desk before. He had known what to expect, and an idea of the scale of the undertaking. But to see it in the flesh–even the Fire Lord himself would have marvelled at the ambition.

Qin's view from the catwalk overlooked the flood of noise and the frenzy of activity that was production floor of Assembly Building Two. To the casual eye, it resembled a shipyard, which it was. The workers of the facility were engaged in the business of building ships, even if Hu Leng Valley was twenty miles from the nearest shore.

The idea behind the project belonged to a man whose name Qin had never learned, and in the official records was only referred to as "the Mechanist". By all accounts an exceedingly clever man, he had traded his ingenuity in exchange for the Fire Nation's protection. Qin was the man who had brought him into the fold, and for years, he had been allowed to settle at the vacant Northern Air Temple, producing plans for new machines to equip the the military's needs. Those successes won Qin the attention of the Fire Lord, and were the prime reason for his appointment to his current position.

Then came the mutiny of the winter. The Mechanist had turned on his protectors. When the army tried to apprehend him and his clan, he had used his inventions to fight them off and then fled, yet to be found again. The only silver lining was the recovery of his prototypes, including a certain flying machine, powered by hot air: the war balloon.

Qin had introduced the concept of the airship during a war council to heavy resistance from the senior generals. The projected resource and manpower requirements were massive. They demanded that the steel and the time be used for more tanks and more ships instead. But they all fell silent when the Fire Lord himself gave the order to proceed. His directive required that at least fifteen were to be built by the summer, and Hu Leng Valley immediately began work.

The largest piece of the airship, currently under construction, was a cylinder of riveted steel, stretching almost the entire length of the building. Two hundred feet long and forty in diameter, it resembled an enormous birdcage. It would provide support for the air envelope, which would be woven from the thickest of textiles, coated with rubber, and stretched over the framing.

At a later time, the completed envelope would be lifted by the cranes for attachment to the crew cabin, containing the propeller engines to propel the airship, the boilers to maintain its buoyancy, and of course, the weapons bay. The designers estimated that the airship could carry four tons of blasting jelly barrels, enough for an individual ship to level a small town.

Qin nodded to himself, pleased. It was a fitting weapon to end this war.

* * *

 _Chin Village_

 _1014 hours_

Captain Lai of the 41st Division was not a coward. For two years in the meatgrinder south of Ba Sing Se, he had proven himself a resolute soldier of his nation. He had stood strong against the best and most experienced troops Earth Kingdom possessed, and had not faltered in the fight. If someone had told him that the greatest fear he would feel would be caused a teenage girl, he would have roared in laughter.

But he felt no amusement now. Instead, he stood stock-still beneath the late morning sun, holding himself as straight as a spear-shaft. Sweat rolled down his brow and stung his eyes, but he kept his arms clamped rigidly by his sides in parade-standard attention. Only his training could stop his legs from shaking.

Off to Lai's left sat an iron behemoth, two stories tall and more than a hundred feet long. It was much like one of those steam-powered trains he had heard of back home, and it was comprised of three cars linked together, but this beast needed no tracks to travel. Instead, it ran on tank treads, churning up the dust and dirt wherever it went. It was a vehicle rated only by a general, and when it had shown up a few miles inland, at Lai's garrison, he had thought at first that the divisional commander had arrived to punish him personally. The reality was more frightening.

The princess cast a disinterested glance at the ruins of Chin Village. She had expected to find nothing and had found nothing. The troops had been very thorough in their punitive exercise. What remained were a half-dozen acres of ash, splintered shards of wood, and seared cobblestone. Nothing remotely salvageable or repairable. Flinging the ash off her shoes with a disdainful shake of her feet, she motioned Lai over.

The captain scrambled towards her, dropping to one knee in the dust and keeping his head bowed. Greeting a member of the royal family in a personal encounter had never been addressed in basic training. "Your Highness! I am honored that..."

"Don't waste my time," Princess Azula snapped. "I have far more important things to do than exchange pleasantries with _you_." She emphasized the last word, and Lai could almost feel her bronze eyes glaring down at him. She had the power to kill him right there, without so much as a blink. "I have some questions. Why did you burn down this village?"

"I was ordered to, Your Highness! Colonel Mongke of the Rough Rhinos sent a messenger with the directive to bring my company here and assault Chin Village."

"And why did this Colonel Mongke give the order to destroy this place?"

"Your Highness, he was injured in an ambush before we arrived here. His subordinate took command. He told us that the village had sheltered the Avatar, and the Avatar had escaped, and that they must be punished. We were ordered to raze Chin to the ground and kill anyone who tried to stop us."

Princess Azula wasn't even looking at him, busy examining her long, blade-sharp fingernails, so much like a raptor's talons. "So, how many of the peasants did you end up putting out of their misery?"

"Seven hundred and twenty-six, Your Highness. Some tried to resist, but we stopped them easily. We burned all their buildings and drove the rest, around three thousand of them, away. Then we buried the dead in a series of pits to the north."

"In what direction did the survivors head?"

"I believe they headed northeast, Your Highness, but I cannot say for sure."

"I have no more need of you, Captain." Azula dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned away, striding gracefully back to the vehicle. Her two strangely-attired companions sat on the folding ramp, patiently for her to he finished.

The door of the tank-train slammed shut and the engine sputtered to life, gray soot spewing from smokestack. Captain Lai stuffed fingers his ears as the behemoth vehicle rumbled forward, tearing chunks from the ground. Soon it had left him behind in a cloud of dust.

The captain exhaled, feeling the tension in his muscles relaxing. Then he brushed the grit from his hair and secured the laces on his boots. He had a four-mile walk ahead of him. The princess hadn't even had the common courtesy to offer him a ride back home.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **So, I'm still pretty busy, but I managed to duct-tape together enough words for another update.**

 **This chapter wouln't have been possible without the help of MrBlah_1 of the subreddit r/FanFiction. Science is really not my thing, but because of the help I received, I was able to make do.**

 **Apologies to my reader quiet_wraith. I couldn't fit in some details about the troops' supply situation this time around. It will have to wait until next time.**

 **There's not much to say about the chapter itself, really. If you didn't know already, War Minister Qin is a canon character. He shows up in S1's "The Northern Air Temple" and again in S3's "The Day of the Black Sun, Part 2", pointing the way to Ozai's throne room under duress in the latter.**

 **Twentieth chapter milestone! Thanks for all the support so far, guys. Real motivators. As always, your thoughts are appreciated. Catch you all next time for Chapter 21.**


	21. Consultations (Part Two)

_March 16th_

 _Laghima Island_

 _0603 hours_

Bedford emerged from the officers' quarters, feeling the ache in his stiff limbs from the previous day's journey. Ambling across the grass outside, he began swinging his arms to loosen them up. He now held slightly more sympathy for those who had to ride one of those creaky transports into battle.

After the more rustic surroundings of Kyoshi Island, the bustling airfield jarred his senses with the activity. It was a few moments until familiarity took hold, bred from the past few years of living on base.

A freshly-arrived EC-47 wheeled down the runway towards its assigned spot, engines trundling at low power as it taxied past a row of Hurricanes parked wingtip-to-wingtip on the grass. Service crews rushed from their shelters to secure the aircraft and assist the disembarking aviators. Across the landing strip, the voices of scores of exercise gear-clad troops rang as they engaged in their daily run, feet pounding the sandy shore. It could have been any mid-sized Allied base in Europe.

"Good morning, Colonel." Major John Borowski put up a salute. "It's good to see you in one piece."

"Morning, Major." Bedford acknowledged his executive officer's gesture.

"How was your trip, sir?"

"Long. But let's not talk about it. How's the battalion keeping? Are the men holding up?"

"To be honest, it's been a tough while for them. The NCOs are doing well to pull them together. At least they know there's a plan in place. God knows what morale'd be like if we didn't know how to get out of this."

"What else's been going on here ever since I left?"

"Not much," Borowski replied. "The recon birds have been coming and going, but the rest of us haven't had much to do until Dog and Easy were put on standby. I already had my damn harness on when the stand-down was given."

"Fortunately, that situation resolved itself." Bedford finished his stretching and straightened up, brushing the wrinkles out of his jump jacket. "Would you know what time the meeting's at?"

"0900, sir. They're looking forward to hearing from you, or so they tell me."

* * *

 _Production Facility "Item"_

 _Hu Leng Valley, Fire Nation_

 _0832 hours_

Professor Moto of the Royal University of Science was not the scrawny academic which War Minister Qin had expected. Instead, the person who sat behind the desk was stone-bald and heavyset, a bull of a man whose shoulders were almost too wide for the small office. Inked in crimson upon his hairy forearm, bared by the rolled-up sleeve of his robe, was the flame-and-spear design of the 34th Division.

"War Minister Qin." Moto stood, coming to the side of his table to give a cursory bow. His footsteps made a strange clatter, and Qin instinctively glanced downwards. Moto's left leg ended at the knee, and below it was a wooden stump, flattened at the bottom to support his weight.

"Professor," Qin said. "I'd prefer to keep this meeting as concise as possible. I am due back in the capital in the late afternoon."

"Fine," Moto grunted, hand resting on his table to support himself. "Let's get straight to the point then, Minister."

"The extraction process from the water. How is progress?"

"Slow," Moto admitted. "But not entirely unfruitful." He slid his desk drawer open and held up a small rubber container, the size of his index finger. It resembled a miniature version of the air envelope that was to be fitted to the airships. "This sample was taken this morning from a storage tank in the yard."

"Is that the gaseous substance which you speak of?"

"Sadly, not quite. If it were pure _qing_ , this receptacle would be floating in midair and the project would be complete. The samples we have retrieved all seem to have some impure gas mixed in with the _qing_. Think of it as iron ore. The metal must be separated from the worthless material it is combined with. It is the same here."

"How are you sure that your sample is not just water vapor?"

Moto absently rolled the rubber container between his fingers. "The gas is highly flammable. In fact, when exposed to fire, it burns hotter than a bender's regular flame. I call it progress."

"Fine, then." Qin sighed dissatisfiedly. "What are your plans for the future?"

"We gather as much of the impure gas as possible. Once we have obtained a sufficient amount in the storage tanks, we can seal them, disconnect the lightning rods, and I can get to work trying to separate the _qing_ from the so-called 'ore'."

"And how long will it take?"

"Once the wet season sets in, I will have the lightning necessary for the initial process. By the end of the rains, I should have enough of the ore. It may take me up to six months to fully separate the useable _qing_ gas, when I find the suitable method."

Qin was counting on his fingers. When he came up to eight, he stopped short. "But that's two months after the end of summer! Two months too late!"

"Your airships can still fly by heated air, minister. Less efficiently so, but that's not my concern. The next generation of them, however, will be kept afloat by _qing_. They'll be faster, with no more need for boilers and more room for crew or additional weaponry."

"Is there truly no way to speed up the process?"

"If you could procure for me a lightning bender, I could produce the ore in a matter of days."

"A...a lightning bender?" Qin was aghast. "You want the Fire Lord himself to come over here and...and blast lightning into your infernal contraptions? Are you a madman?"

"If this project is so important to your grand plans, then why not? In fact, I'd even welcome the Princess Azula to do it if she were available."

Qin threw back his chair and rose to his feet. "I've listened to enough. For your sake, I won't be repeating the last part when I make my report to the Fire Lord."

"And I thank you for that." Moto raised a cordial hand to bid Qin farewell. "Have a good journey, minister."

* * *

 _Laghima Island_

 _0902 hours_

"Colonel Bedford, Colonel Carwell." Brigadier Swales held out his hand. "Welcome back."

Bedford shook it. "It's been some time, Brigadier."

"Pleasure to see you again," greeted Carwell.

"I'd like to commend your fine work, gentlemen," Swales continued with a warm smile, gripping Carwell's hand. "You've been invaluable."

"Thank you, sir." Bedford found his designated seat near the front of the table, with Carwell to his left. Borowski and Di Santo sat on his opposite side, the latter with a thick file on his lap. "Shall we begin?"

All in all, there were nine officers crowded around the rough-hewn table inside the log cabin. Of them, five were American, including Captain Henning, the most senior of the three destroyer commanders. Brigadier Swales, Wing Commander Bassett, and Captain Barry made up the British contingent, leaving General von Weiss as the sole representative of the Germans.

Swales cleared his throat, rustling the sheaf he held. He peered at Bedford for a few moments, then plunged into the matter at hand. "Good morning. A week ago, we agreed upon Colonel Bedford's recommendations. We now have a definite plan in place. It must be completed no later than the twenty-first of August. In the interest of keeping everyone on the same page, we will run through whatever planning we have completed and the supply situation. We will begin with the former.

"The plan we have lies in three distinct phases. Colonel Carwell is responsible for the first of them. Explain your goal, please."

"It all boils down to this, Brigadier," Carwell said. "I will be taking a four-man team deep into enemy territory. We will assasinate the Fire Lord and his daughter, the heir-apparent."

"And what of your preparations?"

"The rest of my team will be recruited from the Kyoshi Warriors. In a month's time, their basic training will be complete and I will be able to select the ones who suit the mission best. I need another two months afterwards to practice alongside them so we can work as a unit. By mid-June, we'll be ready for insertion."

"I suppose it's our responsibility to figure out how to get you there in the first place. I'll task intel and operations to work on that." Swales looked at Di Santo. "You were telling me, Captain, about an important event during the first week of August?"

"According to historical records," replied Di Santo, "there is a religious ceremony known as the 'Twin Sun Festival', an important celebration of sorts. The Fire Lord and his court are expected to be present on that day. My prisoner interrogations have confirmed that the incumbent still observes this tradition. This year, the date falls on the second of August. Colonel Carwell, that's your deadline. If you haven't taken out the Fire Lord before that day, there's your chance to do it. It's a public event. He'll be out in the open, and his heir-apparent right with him."

"Obviously, the first phase is the most complicated component. We can't finalize the details until we can have access to whatever information and aid the Earth Kingdom has to offer, if they agree to help at all." Swales held up a finger. "I'd like to discuss our diplomatic overtures to Ba Sing Se in a little while. As for now, I want Wing Commander Bassett to explain the second phase."

Affixed to the far wall was a large map, five feet by three, a magnified depiction of the Fire Nation islands. Though based on the work of Air Nomad cartographers centuries before, it was no artefact. Uncovered by aerial recon, the intricate web of the enemy infrastructure was laid out on the board. Factory complexes, lines of transportation, military installations, and population centers dotted the map, marked clearly and laid out within a grid, sectioned off into hundreds of squares for easy reference.

Wing Commander Bassett stood in front of the board, pointer in hand. He rested the tip of the rod on Royal Caldera City.

The capital sat on the southern edge of the Shanji Plain, the low-lying flatlands which were the agricultural center of the Fire Nation. From its position on Mount Agni, it dominated the sprawling web of rice paddies, cornfields, and fruit tree plantations which comprised the vast majority of the entire country's food supply. It was apparent how the monarchy had been able to establish control over the rest of the archipelago hundreds of years in the past, before they were able to entrench the idea of their preeminence firmly into the hearts and minds of the people.

Such an arrangement would have been impossible without a ready supply of freshwater, and the Fire Nation was no different. The Shanji Plain was irrigated by the Lai Hao River, which ran from the mountain streams in the northeast, down past the slopes of Mount Agni, and continued all the way to its mouth, where it emptied into Sunrise Bay on the opposite side of the island.

"The operations plan calls for the the capital to be severed from all means of enemy reinforcement, resupply, and communication," said Bassett. "I have here a list of nine targets which will be 67 Fighter's primary objectives. These are the three bridges spanning the Lai Hao which connect Caldera City to the western part of the island, two major rail depots, the Royal Defense Force base south of Mount Agni, two divisional encampments west of the river, and, of course, the Fire Navy's main anchorage at Sunrise Bay."

"Sounds like it'll take some significant firepower," Bedford observed. "Can it be done with the amount of ordnance we have?"

"The only antiaircraft-capable defenses they have are those trebuchets and catapults," replied Bassett. "They're meant for surface-to-surface combat. Not the ideal platform to shoot at fast-moving fighters with. Even then, they only have these weapons emplaced at Sunrise Bay and on their warships. Inland, they're totally bare.

"Without ground fire, my pilots can approach targets while flying low and slow. That improves accuracy measurably. Sunrise Bay will be a harder nut to crack, and the lads'll have to come in hard and fast, but there we only have to sink enough warships to clog up the sea floor and render the naval base unusable. Perhaps we could also disrupt their command-and-control a tad when we bomb their head office. Hopefully a few of their admirals will be hanging around."

"Which brings us to the final phase of the plan," Swales said. "The ground invasion. We will take and hold their capital, their seat of government, economic center, and symbol of nationhood. Colonel Bedford?"

Bedford took his place in front of the map. He studied the Royal Plaza, the landing point for all those who arrived at the capital from the sea, from the lowliest traveler to the king himself.

Recon had shown that it was heavily fortified. A network of towers, bunkers, and battlements which overlooked the plaza from atop its north, west, and south sides provided positions for its defenders to pour fire, catapult rounds, and ballista bolts down upon anyone who pushed west towards Mount Agni. It would be a brutal and attritional fight if it was attacked frontally, even with the help of artillery and air support.

The Fire Nation's dispositions were sound. They were dug in right on top of the only available approach to their capital, able to channel any attack, no matter the size, through the relatively narrow confines of the Royal Plaza. While the assault floundered in the heavy crossfire, they could bring in reinforcements almost at will through their rail and road lines which spanned the Lai Hao.

But the AEU had what none of their previous opponents possessed: the ability to strike them from a direction from where they could not possibly anticipate an attack. The situation was almost a book-perfect representation of why parachute doctrine and close air support was conceived of in the first place, almost thirty years before in the bloody stalemate of the Western Front.

"Gentlemen, I propose a two-step assault. On D-day, I and my battalion will jump on the Shanji Plain." Bedford laid his finger down on a point just north of the capital, where the level terrain was ideal for a parachute drop. "We will link up, advance south towards Mount Agni, maneuver around the side of the volcano, and hit their fortifications from the rear. Their defenses are all oriented towards a seaborne attack. We'll catch them on the blind side and clear them off the top of the plaza, opening up the docks.

"If the air force succeeds in closing Sunrise Bay, nothing can interdict a landing. While my battalion holds the plaza and the slopes of Mount Agni, you can load up the LSTs with supplies and reinforcements, sail them all the way from here down to Royal Bay, and put them ashore. The way will be clear for the Germans, the engineers, the MPs, and the Kyoshi Warriors to land safely and begin the push into the capital itself."

"What will the opposition be like?" asked von Weiss. "What numbers will your paratroopers have to contend with when they arrive?"

Bedford locked eyes with Di Santo, a wordless order to explain. The intelligence officer rummaged through his file, hunting for the relevant information.

"They have two divisions just west of the Lai Hao," Di Santo responded. "From what the Bird Dogs see, maybe ten thousand infantry and a hundred light armored vehicles. But If the RAF does their job, all they can do is sit and stare from across the river. Sure, they can try to repair the bridges if they're not too badly damaged, but they'll have to bring their sappers right within range of our machine guns and mortars to do it."

"What if they make a crossing farther north?"

"The closest bridge is twenty miles upstream, General. They could bring their infantry north, make a crossing, and hook back towards Mount Agni, but _only_ their infantry."

"What about their armor? Can they not use their vehicles in a counterattack?"

"The prisoners say that their tanks have a maximum range of fifteen miles. They can move pretty fast once they get going, and the armor is about as good as a halftrack's, which means it can resist almost all bending attacks, but their range is completely hobbled by using coal power in a relatively small platform. Not enough room for fuel, you see. From what I understand, armor is brand-new for them and they're still working out the doctrine. Currently, the FN uses them as breakthrough weapons, since they're great for breaching entrentched troops. Good for defending bases, too, since it's basically a moving pillbox that spits fire. Obviously, it's not a good platform for our idea of mobile warfare."

"So," Bedford continued, "their infantry will be exhausted from the long walk, without their armored support, and marching in tight columns right through flat rice fields. We can stop them."

"What other forces do they possess in and around the capital?"

"The Royal Plaza garrison is around battalion strength," said Di Santo."That's including the ones manning the towers on the road leading up to the capital. They'll have a complement of tanks, probably no more than twenty.

"The problem is the city itself, more specifically, the governmental district surrounding the Fire Lord's palace. The king has a personal bodyguard, the Royal Firebenders, the real cream of the crop in their military. There are about five hundred of them. On the bright side, you won't have to worry about armor. Almost all of the streets are too narrow."

"The responsibility for taking the city falls mainly to us Germans, does it not?"

"It does, General," Bedford replied, all too straightforwardly. "You'll have the military police company and the rest of the Kyoshi Warrior platoon for support, and I can detach small, specialized units, like bazooka teams or heavy machine gun crews, on an ad hoc basis. But I need most of my battalion up on top of the mountain to secure the perimeter, and the engineers need to be alongside to help us dig in."

von Weiss sank back into his seat, running a hand through his graying blond hair. "Then we will do it. However, I need to be in direct control of my men, right there on the ground, as Colonel Bedford will be."

"You're asking to act as a battalion commander?" Swales was incredulous. "I can't have our two most senior infantry officers running around the front lines in harm's way!"

"There's no way around it, Brigadier," pressed von Weiss. "Most of the officers in my contingent with any experience went home after the 3rd Armored Division released us from captivity. _Hauptmann_ Reiner of II Company was the only commissioned man present during the Normandy campaign. The other company leaders only saw the last three months of the war. My platoon commanders have even less experience.

"The enlisted men are in better condition, since most of them have seen heavy combat at one point or another. Of course, I could strip the squads and platoons for their senior sergeants and brevet them into commissioned roles, but I do not want to deprive the men of their local leadership. I prefer to keep things as they are, provided that you will allow me to alleviate some of their shortcomings by commanding them."

"Fair enough," said Swales, brushing his mustache displeasedly. The idea of placing into the fray the one man who had practical experience in division-level planning didn't quite appeal to him. "Make sure to stay out of direct danger. And I need you involved with Bedford's mission to Ba Sing Se beforehand. If he successfully makes contact, you're the best person to liason with the Earth Kingdom high command."

"Thank you, Brigadier. And I wouldn't be worried about my safety. Unlike Colonel Bedford, I have neither the fitness nor the motivation to be running up and down the slopes of a mountain."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1017 hours_

"Cease fire on the line!" bellowed First Sergeant Turner. "Cease fire! Unload and safety your weapons!"

Sarah Ralston hastened to obey the command from the assigned rangemaster. Still on one knee, she dropped the empty magazine of her M1A1 carbine and left it in an empty pouch by her side, then locked back the bolt to ensure the chamber was empty. Engaging the safety, she unlocked the stock and folded it against the side of the weapon.

She was on the near end of the firing line, and Turner was along quickly to inspect her handiwork. Fox's company sergeant passed on with nothing more than a nod, which was good. She had heard him on more than one occasion tearing a strip out of some hapless young trooper for carelessness.

The ringing in Ralston's ears began to subside. Gunfire wasn't quite as loud as dynamite, but it was nonetheless painful to listen to, especially in this quantity. She was sharing the range with one of Fox Company's platoons this week, and they were able to produce a resounding, skull-rattling wall of noise.

Sergeant Turner waved the all-clear, and the line of shooters emerged from behind the bulldozed berm to retrieve their targets. Ralston had set hers at a hundred-fifty yards away, and she studied the result with a critical eye.

She decided that she wasn't a bad shot. Every one of her fifteen rounds, quickly dispatched, would have been fatal. With her limited experience of just one magazine a week with her carbine, it was acceptable. After all, she was no stranger to guns.

"Morning, ell-tee." It was Ryan, who held his shredded silhouette target by his chest. His hair was still damp from leading the company's jog through the drizzle earlier. "How's that weapon working for you today?"

"I find it quite useful, actually." Almost like second nature, Ralston threw the sling over her shoulder and hiked the carbine onto her back. "It isn't a bother to carry and it doesn't get in the way. I can't say the same about the Lee."

"Yeah, that's one of the problems with a full-sized rifle. Real pain to haul it around if you've got other things to do. Hell, I wonder how the Colonel manages with his BAR? His back must be killing him."

"If that's true, he certainly doesn't show it."

Shading his eyes against the glaring sunlight peeking from behind the overcast, Ryan glanced at his wrist. "What's on your agenda today?"

"Not much. In the afternoon, I'll be taking a work detail to the marketplace to assist the locals. The roof's leaking, and Colonel Bedford told me that we should be helping the people as much as we can, unless there's something urgent you need done."

"You can go. There's nothing urgent that needs to be done today...hold on a second..." Ryan put up a finger to interrupt himself. A young trooper wearing the insignia of a Technician Fourth Class had sidled up to him, muttering a few words to his captain which were inaudible to Ralston. The technician held out the handset of the radio that was strapped to his back.

Ryan took the handset. "Fox Red, this is Fox Six. Go ahead."

Unaccustomed to the garbled chatter of a transmission, Ralston was only able to catch scattered fragments. From the call signs, however, she recognized the sender: First Platoon's observation post up on Hill 154, overlooking the north beach. For more context, she chose to take stock of Ryan's reaction.

The paratrooper was unworried as he listened to the message, meaning that there was no emergency. But to save on batteries, the outpost only transmitted if they had observed something out of the ordinary. Ralston had an idea of just what it was.

Her hunch was confirmed by Ryan as he dismissed his radioman. Before he spoke to her, his eyes unwittingly flitted skywards for a moment, idly searching in the wrong direction. "Looks like the Colonel's little friends are back."

It was a few minutes later when the behemoth—the only word Ralston could associate with such a creature—touched down beside the great statue of Kyoshi, bearing four riders on its back instead of the previous three. The visitors were once again swamped by the villagers, an excitable, chattering mass which refused to dissipate for a while.

She followed Ryan up to the edge of the crowd. He puffed out his chest and fixed a smile, evidently not keen on comprising the entire welcoming committee. Taking a step to the left, she put herself alongside him as the crowd parted.

"Good morning, Avatar," Ryan said. His laidback drawl was gone. "I'm Captain Ryan. I'm in charge of keeping the island secure so you can train properly.

"Hello, Captain." The bald-headed child with the strange blue tattoos glanced around, as if he were expecting someone else. "Is Colonel Bedford around? I need to talk to him."

"He and Colonel Carwell were called back to HQ yesterday. I can get a message to him, if you want."

"I think I can wait. When does he get back?"

"He's expected to be here tomorrow night, Avatar."

"What's all this about 'keeping us safe'?" snapped a belligerent voice. "We can take care of ourselves."

Ralston wasted a few moments searching for the speaker. It was the fourth rider, the one she'd never seen before, a dirty, barefoot girl who only came up to her chest in height and did not even appear to be a teenager yet. Did the fabled Avatar drag an errant street urchin into this business?

There was something else. The girl had to be blind, or almost completely so. Ralston recognized the milked-over irises from one of her great-uncles, who had lived his entire seventy-seven years without seeing the light of the sun. Yet this girl walked on as if everything was normal, winding through a flock of straggling islanders without much effort, or even care.

"Captain," said Aang, "this is Toph Beifong, my earthbending master."

Ryan made a choking sound, which he attempted to disguise as a cough. He managed, however, to swallow his instinctive remark. After all, he had his orders. "Welcome to Kyoshi Island, Miss Beifong."

But as the Avatar's motley entourage went off to find their quarters and left the range of earshot, Ryan turned away to face Ralston. "For the love of God, I hope that kid knows what he's doing."

"I'm praying, Captain, that Colonel Bedford knows what we've gotten into."

* * *

 _Laghima Island_

 _1227 hours_

Lunch at the airfield was always a major enterprise. With over three thousand mouths to feed, hungry in a way which only overworked young men could be, a hastily-cobbled assortment of cooks and mess staff from three Navy ships, two battalions, and an air wing had been assembled to provide nourishment.

Fortunately, there was plenty of raw material to work with. An island previously populated by a majority of vegetarians was unlikely to drive the local marine life away due to overfishing, and the fishing teams came back with nets full to bursting. Also, a century of near-abandonment meant that the woods teemed with game, from wild chickens and feral hogs to strange antelope whose species were unrecognizable but were quite tasty on the grill. Seasoned by salt panned from the ocean and chili peppers foraged from bushes, and supplemented by baskets of fruit plucked from the trees, the problem lay not with supply, but in the sheer logistics of it all.

The units who had cooking equipment available had pooled their resources, setting up a single large field kitchen down by the eastern end of the runway. Unfortunately, the number of people needing to be fed was rather disproportionate to the ones who prepared their food. As a consequence, the lunch service took six hours from beginning to end and handled the men in batches of five hundred at a time.

There was no question of actually sitting down at a table to eat. After getting free of the long mess lines, the men would have to find whichever place they could to put down their trays. Three enterprising paratroopers, part of the hunting party who had brought in today's meal, were using the hood of the jeep in which the latest bag had been transported.

As Bedford drew nearer, the hunters stiffened, abandoning their meal and drawing themselves up to attention. It was the first time in three months that they, along with the majority of their battalion, had laid eyes on their commanding officer.

"Afternoon, fellas," Bedford said lightly. He stepped around them, lodged a boot on the back fender of the jeep, and pushed himself up. The ever-familiar smell of stale blood met his nose. The unwashed bed of the jeep was still stained with it, having been piled high with the antelope carcasses which now floated in the brackish stew.

Dog and Easy Companies had chosen that patch of grass by the parked rows of Army C-47 transports to have their meal. The battalion headquarters staff had elected to join them, and so scores of privates, noncoms, and officers alike milled about in that remote, shaded corner of the base.

The rolling tide of ten dozen different conversations ground to an immediate halt. Nearly four hundred paratroopers stared uneasily at their CO, returned from a long absence for the second time in two years. The last time it had happened was due to two rounds from a Volksgrenadier's submachine gun deep in the Belgian countryside. His reason now wasn't quite so dramatic, but arguably just as important.

"Ten-hut!" Sergeant Major Marlon Henson announced sharply. To a man, the throng of airborne men snapped to attention.

"As you were." Bedford gestured for them to stand easy. "I don't intend to interrupt your meal.

"This morning, I received confirmation from Brigadier Swales and the rest of the joint command. Second battalion is going to do what we're trained for. We're jumping right into their fucking capital and we're going to do what the Russkies did in Berlin. We're going to end this war right in their back yard, and once it's done, we get to go home."

Bedford studied the faces of his men. The younger ones were elated. Many of them were replacements, filling the ranks of the fallen, the grievously wounded, and the lucky ones who survived the war and chose to return home.

They had only seen the dying embers of the war, only ever heard the stories of Salerno, Ste-Mere-Eglise, and the Salm River. Here was a chance to employ the back-breaking training they had received at Benning and Bragg, to earn the coveted star of a combat parachutist, to prove themselves to the peers who had done it all.

Scattered in the midst of the grinning young troopers were a select minority, mostly the senior sergeants and a smattering of officers. They took the news in with the calm resignation and quiet confidence of those who had done it all before. Back into the crucible they would go. These men would be the backbone of the operation, the ones who would lead the less experienced troops and hold them together when they made their jump into the unknown.

Few of them knew Bedford on a personal basis, since he'd come up from Fox Company, in command of which he'd started the war. But they knew that it was on Fox that the former battalion CO, Colonel Vandervoort, had leaned upon when there was a tough job to do, and they'd seen the oft-repeated story of "Harry's Long Run" with their own eyes.

"There's no official date for D-day yet, but word is we've got five months to prepare," continued Bedford. "I don't want any one of you breaking a leg when we hit enemy ground, and I don't want wasted ammo, either. So it's time to iron out the kinks.

"Major Borowski will be in charge for most of the exercises. I can't be there until near the end of the preparations. I've got some more diplomatic bullshit to get through to pave the way for our little operation. But when I get back, we're going to hop right into our planes over here and ride right into war." Bedford raised a clenched fist, a cold, vicious smile stretched across his face as he lowered his voice to a low murmur "And we're going to kill every miserable little fucker who stands in our way of getting home. Airborne!"

The reply came as a single, roaring chorus of four hundred voices, rising into the overcast noon sky. "All the way!"

* * *

 _1313 hours_

"Let's discuss supply, shall we?" Swales put aside one stack of notes in favor of another, sheets covered in detailed inventories and pencilled calculations. This was his own line of work, one he was much more comfortable handling than playing at Patton and Monty. "Let me start with what our infantry have.

"In September last year, General Eisenhower ordered the 82nd Airborne Division to withdraw from occupation duty in Berlin and begin a transfer to Norden. This was part of a move to reconstitute the First Allied Airborne Army and concentrate them in a series of airfields around northern Germany to serve as a shock force in the event of a conflict against the Soviets."

"So that's* why we were transferred," said Bedford. "I thought Ike just wanted us to make way for Eleventh Armored." The reasoning made sense, though. Replacing light infantry with a tank division would be better for defending West Berlin in case the Russians tried something, and freed up the airborne for a counterblow.

Bedford's battalion had been sent in advance to help prepare Norden for occupancy, but instead of a base fully outfitted for the arrival of ten thousand paratroopers, they found a rudimentary facility, a former Luftwaffe training field inhabited by the very bemused airmen of the 67 Fighter Wing. It was a snafu as big as peacetime could make it. The Navy engineers who had prepared the airfield for RAF use had not been notified that more would be coming, and once they had finished they were reassigned elsewhere, disappearing into the chaos of rebuilding a shattered Germany. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the 82nd were held back until a solution could be found.

"The paratroops' consignment of small arms and ammunition arrived by sea," Swales continued. "The troops themselves did not, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you see things. At the time, I held a grudge against them for having left us to deal with their mess. It was, as you all may recall, a uniquely difficult logistical problem."

"And now, Brigadier?" von Weiss prompted.

"I still begrudge them. If the Airborne were willing to make the best of the situation instead of remaining behind in Berlin, I wouldn't be here. Then again, they could well be fighting a full-scale war against the Bolshies as we speak, and I prefer this situation to being continually nagged by Field Marshal Montgomery on whether the headquarters company of First Guards Armored has enough fuel to make it across the Rhine."

"Due respect, sir, but aren't we getting away from the discussion?" Bedford asked.

"My apologies, Colonel." Freed from the realm of operations planning, if only temporarily, Swales' little story was a slight overindulgence. "Norden was a difficult place to resupply by road. The road systems leading north to the town were all heavily bombed by air power during the last push into Lower Saxony and have not yet been repaired. High Command realized that the Airborne would need their supplies readily available in case of emergency. Since they could not provide a constant chain by land, the US Navy was prevailed upon to deliver it by sea in the form of a lump sum. In short, we've got enough ammunition to keep a division self-sufficient for eight weeks of combat."

Bedford tried to keep his satisfaction hidden. Eight weeks— logistics people tended to think in weeks rather than in days or months—for a division of nine thousand was almost a year and a half of fighting time for the thousand or so infantrymen of the Allied Expeditionary Unit. Even with the intensive training exercises which he would order Borowski to schedule, there was more than enough to carry out the operation.

"Brigadier, are you sure about your calculations?"

"Positive," Swales replied. "Accounting for it all was quite a significant effort, in fact. Boxes and boxes of rifle and pistol rounds, mortar shells, hand grenades, high explosives, radio batteries. Spare weapons, parachutes, tinned rations. Anything a light infantryman could want, in the same condition as when they came off the production lines in America. They're all stored in the old Luftwaffe ordnance bunkers, safe from the elements. General von Weiss, Colonel Bedford, you will get your supplies, and plenty of it."

"That's a relief," von Weiss said. The nightmare of the Ruhr Valley still lay in the back of his mind, of the seemingly-endless waves of American armor and mechanized troops swamping the besieged town of Bad Lippspringe. The 103rd Infantry Division had desperately held on to their corner of the encirclement for a week, paying a bloody cost to stay the crushing tide of Bradley's green wolves from closing the pocket on the four hundred thousand doomed soldiers of Army Group B.

It was von Weiss' very own Bastogne, an ironic fate for the men who'd helped lay siege to the 101st Airborne in the first place. But there was no legendary stand against the rolling tide of panzergrenadiers, no relief column from Patton. The guns ran dry on the eighth day, and there were no more options left but to lay down their arms and march to Paderborn to surrender to the 3rd Armored Division.

"There is some more good news," Swales continued. "Fuel-wise, we were left well off, both in the aerial gasoline and the naval diesel. The Germans left behind vast tanks for their airbase to sustain training and combat for the three fighter wings assigned there. The American Seabees who converted the base for our use also installed diesel storage for their own ships.

"Of those stocks, we have consumed approximately four-sevenths of the gasoline and half of the diesel. However, the vast majority of the fuel-intensive recon overflights are complete. Our stores of film are almost expended, anyway, unless we strip the gun cameras from the fighters and personal sets. We have also decreased the rate of LST relays to Kyoshi Island. The savings from the lowered operations tempos will be enough to put us over the top, with six weeks to eight weeks to spare, depending on how much we'll be leaning on Bird Dog for comms work. That's a guarantee."

"That's it for the infantry, and the gas for the boats and planes." Bedford nodded. "So far, so good. How about aerial and naval ordnance? What are we looking at?"

"In those departments, we're not so fortunate," Swales thumbed through his papers. "The Navy ships have plenty of fuel, but they have absolutely zero ammunition in reserve. Norden Naval Station was never intended to be operational for over a year. There was no provision to resupply ships except for refueling.

The destroyers can support the assault with their artillery, but once their magazines are empty, there's nothing left. If the convoy runs into an engagement, there will be even fewer shells to go around."

"If we have the choice," Henning offered, "in the scenario of contact with enemy shipping, we could try to start off with torpedoes and anti-aircraft cannon, so the more versatile naval artillery can be saved for ship-to-shore support. Of course, that's only if we have a choice and aren't forced into a situation where we have to use our guns."

"Thank you, Captain," said Bedford. "I appreciate it. Anyhow, as long as the ammo is there, my weapons company has a battery of six eighty-one millimeter mortars. They're not as powerful as your five-inchers or land-based one-oh-fives, but they're decent medium fire support."

"As for the RAF," Swales continued, "they could be worse off. Since they've mostly been grounded, spare parts aren't really much of an issue, and 67 Fighter had enough supply on base to fight for three weeks of high-intensity combat.

"But unlike the infantry, there's no question of overstock. It's enough for the critical targets, for Sunrise Bay, the bridges, the rail depots, and for the bombings of the enemy units around the capital. But there'll be almost none left over except autocannon rounds and a handful of bombs. I suppose that they'll serve well for close air support during the land phase, but we cannot strike their production facilities."

"Damn," Bedford grumbled. "That capability could've been a good bargaining chip for the Earth Kingdom. We could dangle the fact in front of them that we're able to smash the enemy's production and choke off their warfighting capability. If I were them, I'd be falling over myself to make a deal."

"That is the end of our discussion of supply," announced Swales. "I trust that everyone has internalized the details. There is only one more thing to talk about today. Colonel Bedford will be heading to Ba Sing Se to make contact with the Earth Kingdom sometime next month, and we have yet to plan it out. Colonel, do you have any idea how you could get there? The sea lanes are infested with Fire Navy patrols. A parachute drop, perhaps?"

"Too risky," Bedford observed. "Looking back, the first contact at Kyoshi Island was a little too much of a risk, and even then they were in a peacetime standing. I don't want a rock to the guts before I can explain myself."

He thought for a moment, fingers drumming against the surface of the table. Swales set his eyes on him, waiting for the response.

"You know, I could always hitch a ride with the Avatar."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Out of the game for more than three months, yes, but not out of the game completely. I doubt that you want to hear my excuses, so I'll give none. I'm updating on a strictly irregular basis, after all.**

 **This turned out to be a very exposition-heavy chapter, in which I gave the long-awaited breakdown of what exactly the AEU has to fight with. I'm obviously not a logistics guy, so please forgive me for being vague and not getting down to the nuts and bolts of how many gallons of fuel or how many boxes of .30-06.**

 **Qing is Chinese (at least I think it is) for hydrogen. If there's a better translation out there, than please do share. Until then. I'm sticking with the legendary lazy man's crutch which is Google Translate.**

 **Is Bedford really embarking on the classic self-insert dream of dancing around the Earth Kingdom on Appa with Gaang in tow? Find out in 2021, when I finally get off my ass to write that particular chapter.**

 **Happy belated New Year, guys. Thanks for stopping by, and catch you later.**


	22. A Different Angle

_March 18th_

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1012 hours_

After another bumpy fifteen-hour ride on the rolling deck of the Navy's venerable Landing Ship, Tank, Bedford wanted little more than to crawl into his mattress in Keum Village and go to sleep. But the Avatar was back on the island and needed to be informed about the planning for Ba Sing Se expedition, among several other lesser matters.

Bedford settled for coffee. Fortunately, the Navy brew made for a far better drink than the cheap Army-issue instant powder. With a steaming mug in hand and his traveling bag over one shoulder, he stepped down the slippery landing ramp and set his feet right back onto Kyoshi's land.

Carwell also held his own cup as he stood on the sand, waiting for Bedford to catch up. There would be no rest for him either; the Kyoshi Warriors were waiting for him to lead small-unit maneuver training down in the forests.

"You know what the best cup of Joe I've ever had was?" he asked as Bedford came up alongside.

"Was it that cat shit at Camp John Hay?" guessed Bedford.

"Not quite. Though I enjoyed that one, at least until someone told me what I was drinking," chuckled Carwell. "No, the best one was when I was with the OSS in Germany, December '44. My team was somewhere south of Wittlich. The temperature was about ten below, and we were cold, wet, and feeling pretty down on our luck. We couldn't receive any supply drops because the weather had been terrible for more than three weeks, so we essentially had to ration our rations.

"We were camped out in the forest, shivering and cursing our luck. And then a German supply convoy just ran straight into us. Ten _Volksgrenadier_ , a horse, and a cart. That was the moment where I felt closest to God."

" _Close_ to God? How the hell could you feel like that?"

"Them being there was an act of providence. Turns out, a stiff wind had knocked down some trees and blocked the main road, so they had to take a detour. It was like God sending Abraham a sacrificial goat when Isaac was on the altar.

"Don't get me wrong, I took no pleasure in doing it. But I'll admit to you that after five days of eating crumbs, I was almost past caring. We had no choice, anyway. So we ambushed them, stripped them of every foodstuff we could scavenge, and rigged the spot with explosives to make it look like they'd taken a wayward mortar hit. Then we got right out of the area as quick as humanly possible. That night, I had some tough German hardtack, a can of bland pork, and a mug of chicory coffee. Dinner at the Waldorf couldn't possibly have been better."

A hasty beat of footfalls announced the arrival of Fox Company's runner, a young private who was sweating slightly in the cool air. He drew up short on the beach, fumbling with the piece of paper he had been ordered to deliver.

"Good morning, Colonel Bedford, Colonel Carwell, sir."

"Is it?" Bedford let the question hang in the air for just a moment. After all, an officer only pissed and moaned to someone of equivalent rank. Anyone else, and it was either bad leadership or bad manners. "You have a message for me?"

"Yes, Colonel, sir. It's from Captain Ryan. " The runner unfolded a rough scrap torn from an old requisition order. "He says that the Avatar is currently engaged in bending practice in the pass between North Beach and Keum Village."

"Then I'll meet them there," said Bedford. "You're dismissed, Private. Pete, I'll see you around."

* * *

 _1024 hours_

The pass through the valley was still a scar on the otherwise pristine island, a distinct reminder that there was a war still yet to be fought. The clearing job after the battle to make the place passable again had no time for subtleties. Instead, the engineers' bulldozers had simply plowed gaps through the man-made landslide, pushing aside rock, corpses, and trees without much discrimination.

Some further work had been undertaken to level the ground and make the valley walls slightly more stable, but no regard was given to cosmetics. Stripped bare, the hardened dirt had been churned up by the deep tracks of the bulldozers and dissolved into an ocean of mud when the weather warmed and the rains came.

As a stopgap measure, Ralston had a long line of planks laid, wide enough for two men to walk abreast, bridging the valley floor until there were time and resources to attempt a restoration. Appeasing those spirits the locals believed in could come later.

Bedford felt the duckboards creak underfoot as he made his way north. They were rejected lumber, deemed unsuitable to build houses with by the populace. He sincerely hoped they wouldn't fail. He only had one clean uniform left and no time to launder.

The improvised training area was close to the beach, a rough circle around seventy feet in diameter. The thigh-deep mud somehow had completely dried into a layer of hard-packed dirt, and Bedford spent a little too much time wondering how it had been done. Then he remembered that the young girl who traveled with the Avatar was a waterbender.

At the moment, there was a pantomime going on inside the circle. Or, at least it seemed that way to Bedford, who was still too far to make out their words. Curious, he squinted at the scene unfolding before him.

He recognized the Avatar immediately, orange robes distinctive against the dull brown landscape. Aang stood beside an enormous limestone boulder the size of a jeep, somehow dragged in from the demolished cliff back up the valley, and yet that wasn't the odd part.

The Avatar was getting chewed out by a disheveled midget in a strange headband, an accusatory finger being waved in turns at his face and at the boulder. By them, the waterbender girl stood, a look of concern on her face as she argued with the other two. Further along the path was her brother, knees drawn up on the duckboards, watching on sourly as he worked at a gleaming machete with a whetstone.

Drawing nearer, the ill-tempered conversation grew more distinct to Bedford's ears. The midget seemed to have the shrill voice of an adolescent girl, poorly-hidden frustration filling her tone.

"...there's no evading it, Twinkletoes! There's no way around it, no creative solution! Either you face it head on, or you can forget about earthbending!"

"I'm trying!" Aang's face was flushed with exertion.

She laughed, derisively, mirthlessly. "Even I can see that you're not trying hard enough."

"Aang." Katara laid a hand on his shoulder. "You've been at it all morning. You can start again tomorrow. Come on, we can still work on waterbending. There's a creek just past the village."

"Yeah, Twinkletoes. Go splash around with Madam Sweetness if it makes you feel better. Tomorrow will be harder, take my word for it." The girl brought her foot down to the right, settling into a rigid stance. She thrust her arms apart, and the earth vibrated with power. The massive boulder split straight in two, flying apart in a cloud of dust. One of the halves sailed past Bedford, missing him by a scant twenty feet, and slammed into the side of a hill.

Katara, who had been shepherding Aang back towards the path, stopped and wheeled about to face the other girl. "Hey, who're you calling—?"

Bedford put a finger up. "Avatar? A moment of your time?"

"Colonel." The Avatar looked relieved at the distraction. "You're back. Can you walk with us?"

"Who's this?" demanded the earthbender, shaking dirt from her hands and wiping them on the sides of her green robe.

"That's Colonel Bedford, Toph ," Sokka piped up. Finally finished with sharpening his weapon, he'd materialized beside the irate bender. "He's in charge of the soldiers on this island. Colonel, this is Toph Beifong, Aang's earthbending instructor."

"I was wondering who I almost hit with that slab." The blank, unmoving eyes settled on a point somewhere off to Bedford's right. "Dontcha worry. I was in control the whole time."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Beifong." Bedford shrugged. "And no, I wasn't really worried about that rock."

"Hmm. And you're telling the truth, too. Have you ever seen earthbending before?"

"I can't say that I have, Miss Beifong."

"When most people experience earthbending for the first time, their heart really gets pumping. There's something about seeing the solid ground you're walking on just start flying around that gets 'em. You're not one of those people." She shrugged. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, as if she had wanted to give Bedford a fright.

Who was this strange kid who purported to read minds and listen to heartbeats? He was almost inclined to believe that this was a childish trick from the young Avatar. But her bending belied that thought.

Her interest diminished, Toph walked off without another word. Bedford soon did the same, quickening his pace to join the Avatar and the waterbender on the wooden walkway.

"Out of curiosity, Avatar, where does your earthbending master hail from?" he asked, as soon as he was alongside.

"Gaoling." It was Katara who spoke, as Aang still looked perturbed from the altercation. "She was the champion of a regional earthbending tournament."

"A junior division, perhaps?"

"No," Katara replied, somewhat begrudgingly. "She beat several grown men, all powerful benders, to win the belt." Bedford scanned her face for any sign of amusement, but she appeared to be dead serious. "You know, I wish she was a fraud, too. Maybe that would give us a good excuse to dump her in the middle of nowhere."

"I don't believe that would help our cause."

"It'd help my nerves, that's for sure." Her hand twitched instinctively towards the pouch of water at her hip. "If that little twerp throws one more side comment at me, I swear I'll—!"

Eager to change the subject, Aang cut across her threat. "Colonel, what did you want to talk about?"

"It concerns our diplomatic mission to Ba Sing Se come the summer. Is there any way I could join your travelling party?"

"You have all those airplanes that you were talking to us about..." Katara's expression momentarily changed from anger to confusion, "...and you want to fly on our bison?" She hastily placed a reassuring hand on Aang's shoulder. "No offense to Appa, of course."

"Yeah," agreed Aang. "Can't you get there much faster than we can? Shouldn't you* be the one offering us a ride?"

"There are two reasons. Firstly, there's nowhere to land a plane in their city."

"I know that Ba Sing Se must be pretty crowded, but an airplane can't be much larger than Appa, right? There must be a place big enough to fit one."

"How do I explain this..." Bedford sighed. "Let's say I wanted to borrow your glider. How would I be able to fly with it?"

"Well, you'd need to find a high spot to jump from. Since I can get the air currents moving under my glider, I can fly from a standing start, but anyone else would need to pick up a lot of speed in a really short time. If I were you, I'd go up to that hill where they have that shrine to Kyoshi and jump off the side."

"Now, imagine if I were not a man, but a twenty-five thousand-pound hunk of steel with wings stretching for fifty feet in both directions. It would be inconvenient to be throwing an object like that from the side of a cliff every time you want to launch one, yes?"

"Wait, your airplanes weigh twenty-five thousand pounds?" Katara marvelled. "How can something that heavy even get off the ground in the first place?"

"The engines. The aircraft in question has two of them, each capable of generating the same amount of power as a thousand horses."

"Llama-horses?" asked Aang.

"Ostrich-horses?" asked Katara.

"No, just horses. No hybrids, no mixed-breeds."

"Whoah, Colonel," Aang said, "your world _sure_ is weird."

"As I was saying, Avatar, " Bedford cleared his throat. "To achieve the same effect as leaping off the cliff, we put the airplane on one end of a paved road. It must be completely straight, flat, and around two-thirds of a mile long. The engines are started, and the plane accelerates to around a hundred-twenty miles an hour. At that point, enough air is moving underneath the wings to support flight.

"Of course, something travelling at that speed cannot simply stop on a whim. Your bison can move in a directly vertical path, or even hang in place. We haven't quite figured out how to replicate that artificially. To put an airplane down on the ground, it needs to descend from the sky gradually and touch down on similarly flat ground. It takes a third of a mile of road for an aircraft to slow down in a safe manner. Ba Sing Se has no such facilities. There's plenty of flat land within the walls, but none of has provision to support both takeoff and landing."

"Can't you have the airplane fly you over the place?" Aang suggested. "Then, when you're right over Ba Sing Se, you can jump out. Us airbenders always had our gliders. Don't you guys have some way to slow down a person who's falling from the sky?"

"We considered that possibility. The technology exists. In fact, I'm trained to use that specific piece of equipment. Theoretically, I could land right in front of the king's palace, but that just brings us to my second reason.

"Put yourself in the shoes of an Earth Kingdom soldier, a member of the royal guard. You're an elite fighter, probably a veteran of many battles, since the king wouldn't entrust his safety to kids right out of basic training. You've spent years fighting the Fire Nation, the most advanced country in the world, whose imagination for strange and devious inventions of war is notorious. You know that they can create great machines which can deal death.

"One day, a massive, silvery shadow swoops over the palace. It looks like a huge bird, except it rumbles and growls unnaturally. Then you see a single figure falling down from it, floating to the ground under a white canopy like a leaf in the wind. I may be wearing the same color as you, but everything else is absolutely foreign. You don't recognize my uniform, my weaponry, my helmet, or any of the other gear I'm carrying. For all you know, this is probably more Fire Nation witchcraft. When I hit the ground, what do you do?"

"I, uh..." Aang scratched at his bare head, "...would try to find out who you are, exactly?"

"Aang," Katara chided. "Any earthbender worth his rocks would try to kill Colonel Bedford before he got a chance to talk."

"See? She gets it." Bedford nodded in approval. "On the other hand, if I were travelling with you, I'd be an accredited companion of the Avatar, so to speak. I'd stand a better chance of being listened to."

"All right, I understand now." Aang stopped in his tracks, and Bedford noticed the low swish of running water. They had arrived at the creek. "Just let me talk to Sokka about this, okay?"

"Thank you for your consideration, Avatar. Now, I should leave you before I interrupt more of your bending practice. A good day to you."

* * *

 _Han Tui. Earth Kingdom_

 _1338 hours_

The wind blustering in from the north was hot and stinging, sweeping over the rocky land in a suffocating blanket of heat. Even spring's arrival would bring no respite for the regimental garrison stationed there; the climate here was far more similar to the Si Wong Desert, twenty miles to the north, than the more temperate areas by the coast.

Azula watched on as the soldiers labored and perspired in the afternoon sun, so antlike in their procession. Some, supervised by Li and Lo, were pushing carts of coal up the ramp of their tank train's locomotive, enough fuel for the long journey ahead, while others passed along boxes of food and jugs of water from hand to hand.

Though the men almost certainly would've preferred to do the work unhindered, their unit commander had given the order for full uniform in anticipation for this royal visit. The result was a whole assortment of men encased in red cloaks and full battle armor, polished and shined to a gleam, barely able to hold themselves in proper order as they toiled wearily in the dry, dusty field.

The regimental commander's office was little cooler than what lay outside, but at least it provided shade while they waited. Azula had dismissed the man who occupied it, and he had left to seek shelter against the sun elsewhere, leaving her, Ty Lee, and Mai to their own devices.

"We can trace the Avatar's movements down to a week ago," said Azula, finally turning away from the window. She pointed to the large map pinned to the wall, hanging over the officer's desk. "Omashu, Chin, and most recently Gaoling. But now the trail runs cold. It's a physical impossibility to keep up with a flying bison when we're firmly rooted to the ground. War Minister Qin's little airship project can't be completed quickly enough."

"Imagine that," Ty Lee mused from her perch, hanging by her feet from the top of the commander's shelves. Her eyes were contemplative. "Wouldn't you just love it? Soaring through the air, with your nose in the clouds? It's just like being an airbender without a glider. Except an airbender without a glider would just drop out of the sky like a rock, right...?"

"How in Agni's name was _Zuko_ of all people able to track the Avatar's party so closely?" Azula continued, cutting off Ty Lee's ramblings. She was well used to doing so.

Mai scoffed, leaning against the doorway. "I think you're underestimating him," she said, drawing the blade of a throwing knife across the leather strop wound across her knuckles. Satisfied with the finely-honed edge, she slipped it back into the folds of her robes and selected another for similar treatment. "He can be very determined if he sets his mind to something."

"Oh, like his firebending practice? Azula shot back. "I remember him, years ago, being dead set on making Grandfather proud when he returned from campaign. He was training every day for hours, came in at night all sweaty and covered in soot. Unfortunately, his recital was a significant embarrassment for all involved, especially for Father. No. In his recent hunting of the Avatar, he got lucky, nothing more. And with all that luck, he still failed."

"Mai's only defending Zuko because she still _likes_ him!" Ty Lee teased, giggling.

With a contemptuous roll of her eyes, Mai returned to her task.

Azula glanced up at the map again. "What the Avatar is trying to do is quite obvious. As he's already visited the North Pole and hangs around with that waterbending peasant, we can assume that earthbending is the next element in the cycle. He's looking for a master. He tried that senile old coot in Omashu, but he couldn't bring him along, So he continued on. His party is moving east along the Tei Khay range, where the lands are more sympathetic to his cause. Once he reaches the coast of the Eastern Sea, he'll turn north towards Ba Sing Se."

"Why not head directly northeast?" wondered Ty Lee, contorting to get a better angle on the map. "It'd be faster."

"He won't want to cross the Si Wong. Even on a bison, it would still take two or three separate hops to reach the other side, and stopping in the desert would leave him in danger from all kinds of creatures. Going around would only be an additional week of travel."

"What if he already found a master?" Mai countered. "Why would he still need to head for Ba Sing Se?"

"Fire follows Earth. If there are any of those loathsome traitors to our nation who'd be willing to give the Avatar pointers in firebending are still out there, they'd have most likely made their way to Ba Sing Se already. Safe behind those walls, the Avatar could train with all four elements until he masters all of them. If he's not stopped, we will have a severe problem on our hands."

"Please tell me you have a plan," Ty Lee said. She dropped down from the shelves, landing gracefully on the concrete floor.

"I was _getting_ there, Ty Lee." Azula sighed in exasperation. "We can't overtake the Avatar. The tank train can't store enough coal to reach Ba Sing Se without refueling, and the further we move in that direction, the less support we can reasonably expect. The army have been unable to suppress the populace's appetite for rebellion yet, and the only Fire Nation facilities to the east are minor outposts. We can't rely on them for resupply.

"What we will do is to head back west at full speed. It should take us a little over two weeks to reach the mouth of the Su Oku River, where we will rejoin with the royal barge. From there, we'll set sail for Ba Sing Se."

"And how will we get to the Avatar if he's behind a giant wall?" Mai asked.

"I'll find a way." Azula began composing a mental letter, to be sent once they were back in range of messenger hawk correspondence. Though the airship project may still have been incomplete, perhaps there was another tool in the arsenal to help crack open the problem at hand. "As a matter of fact, before we left the Fire Nation, I remember Qin informing the council about a new weapon that was nearing completion. Something about a mobile drilling device..."

* * *

 _Kyoshi Island_

 _1617 hours_

"So Colonel Bedford really does want to come along for the ride, huh?"

"Are you okay with it?" Aang asked.

"If you think it's right, then I don't suppose I have a problem either." Sokka turned his attention back to the tray of rice balls sitting on his lap. "I don't really know much about the guy, but he doesn't seen like he'll give us trouble, and we could always do with some extra muscle. Can Appa take another passenger?"

"Yeah, no problems there. Air bison are pretty strong. Monk Gyatso once took our whole class of novitiates to Omashu on his bison, Jianren. I mean, we were a lot smaller back then, and didn't have many earthly belongings, but still..."

Sokka shoved the rest of his rice ball into his mouth, chewing down loudly. With his free hand, he reached around for his satchel and drew out his map, shaking it open. He studied it intently for a few moments. "It's a couple of weeks to Ba Sing Se from here, _if_ we don't get sidetracked. Which, of course, we will. I don't suppose Bedford will have any tolerance for all the wacky stuff that we always get dragged into? He seems like the serious type."

"Now that I'm thinking about it, it'll be pretty weird having someone so...old, I suppose. It's been us three for so long, and Toph isn't exactly grown-up, either. Do you think he'll even take us seriously?"

"Old?" Sokka snorted. "Aang, you're three times his age and his only ticket home. He'd better stay in line."

Three quick taps sounded at the door. "Coming!" Aang called, scrambling over to answer the knocks.

He slid back the door of the hut, expecting to find Katara or Toph, but was instead was greeted by the sight of one of Bedford's men. A young private stood outside, his chest puffed out as authoritatively as possible. "Good afternoon, Avatar, sir."

"Can I help you?"

"Colonel Bedford would like to speak with you, sir. You and the rest of your group. He's inviting you to his command post for a discussion."

"What's there to talk about?" piped up Sokka from the other side of the hut.

The courier unfolded the note in his hand. "A few days ago, the Avatar asked Colonel Bedford about his plan to..." his eyes widened as he read through the rest of the message.

"Are you okay?" Aang asked. For a few moments, the man seemed lost for words. "Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing to worry about, sir. It's just that I'm only a company runner. I'd say that delivering messages like these is a little above my pay grade." He cleared his throat, looking back down at the slip of paper. "Anyway, Colonel Bedford would like to brief you in on his plans to defeat the Fire Nation. "

* * *

 _1633 hours_

The current situation would be a common occurrence in combat, Carwell had told them. To their front, still hidden from sight, were an unknown number of hostiles camped out in the woods. No reinforcements could be expected to help deal with them. Suki's squad was on its own.

Her task as squad leader was to find out how many enemies lay ahead and how they had arrayed themselves. If there were only a few of them up ahead and they hadn't dug into a solid defensive position, she could engage. If she did, her warriors were expected to eliminate the opposing force as quickly and efficiently as possible.

If there were too many enemies in the woods, she would have to covertly slip her squad past them and evade, going the long way around to Shen Town for the debriefing. She was required to note down the enemy's dispositions accurately and justify her decision to Carwell.

Twelve Kyoshi Warriors crouched in the shadows of the forest, facing were divided into three loosely-spaced clusters of four each. In front of them was the path which wound east to Shen, and deeper into the trees was the enemy encampment.

"Heads up, girls," Suki murmured, lying on her belly in the prickly underbrush. "I saw nine of them. Two sentries on the other side of the path, then seven gathered maybe a hundred feet further that way. We'll provide for up to four more guys. I say we can take them."

"That's nice," said Rena with another glance down at her rifle. It was locked and loaded, as it had been since the start of the exercise. "What's the plan?"

"The sentries have got to go. Rena, stay with me. Miya and Akiko will be together as well. Us four are going to cross the path and take them out quietly. Once the sentries are gone, Sae's team will move up to where they were and fire in support. The rest of us'll make the assault right into their camp. We go left, Koharu's team goes right.

Suki waited for a question, but there were none. She nodded confidently and signalled with a snap of her arm. "Let's do this."

Rena, Akiko, and Miya emerged from the bush, and Suki jumped up. A few quick steps and she was at full stride, darting across the rocky path. Her feet touched the ground with practiced grace, a gliding spirit under the canopy. One thing Carwell couldn't teach her was stealth. That quality already ran deep in every Kyoshi Warrior's blood.

Under the branches of an oak, she paused, making sure that the others were right behind her. They stood there tautly, watching their surroundings in case there were unaccounted enemies lurking around. None in sight.

Suki pointed at the two standing figures, no more than twenty feet away. The enemy sentries, symbolized by straw practice dummies tied to wooden posts. Even if they had been flesh and bone, the warriors' approach was still too quiet to be noticed.

Her finger carved a curving shape in the air, a signal acknowledged by a thumbs-up from the other three. They'd strike the watchmen from the treetops, a standard move all of them had practiced many times. While riskier than a ground-based approach, attacking from above would provide them the maximum amount of surprise.

Fingers gripping tightly to the trunk, Suki began to climb. Her shoes dug into the bark, supporting her weight, and she shimmied up the tree, careful to keep its bulk between her and the her target. Hand over hand she pulled herself higher, until her head poked through the canopy. The bright sunlight glared at her eyes, and she squinted for a moment, before she reached back down through the leaves to help Rena up.

"Ready?" she whispered.

Rena grinned brightly. "You betcha."

Suki tensed for a second, feeling the branches creak slightly underfoot as she gathered up force. Taking one more deep breath, she sprang.

The rushing air stung at her face as her jump reached the the top of its arc, and she started to plummet back towards the earth. There was always that moment of doubt during freefall, a dragging feeling in the gut that no amount of training could dissipate. Her legs flailed in midair, desperate for solid ground.

Then she hit the opposing tree. Instantly, she grabbed on, both hands circling the trunk. She was sliding downwards, gloves protecting her skin from the rough bark as she used the surface to slow her fall. She touched down softly, barely an arm's length behind her target.

Suki flicked open one of her razor-edged fans, drove off her left knee, and lashed out with one powerful strike. The scarecrow's head sailed off into the woods, leaving behind a straw-stuffed tunic hanging forlornly from its stake.

The soft thud beside Suki told her that Rena had also landed. She glanced over to where the other sentry had been stationed, and found another brutal decapitation, made more gruesome by the additional vertical slash which had split its torso in half. Akiko sheathed her sword and winked, before reaching for her rifle.

Suki turned to look back across the path and waved. The other eight warriors broke cover in a sprint, more concerned now with speed rather than secrecy. Four of them swerved off to the right, while the rest crossed the path directly.

Carwell had likened maneuvers like these to a scorpion. Sae's team was the sting in the tail, keeping the enemy trapped and unable to fight back, while Suki and Koharu led the pincers, coming in from both sides to strike.

Suki tore through the brush, all pretensions of stealth abandoned as the first shots rang out to the right. The whip-crack of rifles mixed with the discordant rattle of submachine gun fire, sweeping the target area to cover her team's flanking run. They were advancing roughly abreast of each other, with at least six feet of distance between runners so that a single enemy blast of fire couldn't hit more than one of them at a time.

The figures of two enemies appeared ahead, visible amidst the greenery. Still moving, Suki snapped her M3 up to her shoulder, locked the iron sights on target, and tugged back on the trigger. Three rounds blasted out of the muzzle, and the practice dummy shuddered from the impacts. Rena took responsibility for the other one, pulling up short to let off two quick rounds that sent straw and bits of cloth flying into the air.

Suki peeked around the side of a tree and lined up a second burst. Another straw man sagged to the ground, wooden stake and all. She had only just been issued the weapon, but she already felt more at union with it than with any rifle.

The hail of bullets from Sae and her three warriors was beginning to slack off, taking a few seconds to die out completely. The pincers were about to enter the target area, and if the supporting team continued trying to smother the enemy with more covering fire, they would run the risk of hitting friendlies. In the meanwhile, they would sit tight, waiting for Suki to either call for help or signal the all-clear.

Now came the entry into the encampment itself. They needed to swing to the right like a door on a hinge. Closest to the objective, Suki had the least distance to cover, and simply pivoted on her heel, bringing her submachine gun around to bear. The others made the turn one after another, careful to maintain their line and spacing.

It wasn't much of a camp. A few tattered bedrolls had been thrown about, surrounding a pile of boughs stacked in a crude approximation of a campfire. The remains of three more enemies lay at the center, cut to pieces by the intense fire of the covering team.

A single unharmed dummy was perched at the rear, and Miya and Akiko shredded it with three shots. The pole supporting it cracked in two, and the target sank out of sight.

"Clear!" Suki called out, concluding a quick survey of their surroundings. She shifted left and right, scanning every possible angle, but there were no more enemies to be seen in their sector.

The branches to the right of the encampment rustled, and Koharu appeared. Her three warriors were close behind, heads up in search of targets, but they soon came to the same conclusion.

"Clear!"

"All clear! Sae, move up!" Suki ordered, loudly enough to be heard from the rear. She snapped the dust cover of her M3 to closed position. To Koharu, she added, "How many did you get?"

"Two. The bushes were really clumped up thickly on the right, though, so we had to do a more thorough sweep of our flank before we hooked to the left. You?"

"Three down our side, and one when we entered the camp. Sae got three of them here. Add the two watchmen, and that makes eleven of them in total."

Suki turned to look back south, and discovered that Sae's covering team weren't the only people coming towards the target area. The familiar lanky frame of Colonel Carwell crashed through the undergrowth behind the four warriors, intently jotting down notes on a clipboard as he dodged brambles and rocks.

Carwell was dressed for the occasion. Over his uniform, he had taken to wearing a puffy vest dyed in a ridiculously vivid shade of orange as a precautionary measure, to ensure the warriors could recognize him during live-fire maneuvers. To bolster the desired effect, he had also wrapped lengths of red fabric around his right arm and the brim of his helmet.

"So you chose to engage," he observed to Suki, adjusting his ludicrous apparel, which had hiked up awkwardly towards during his walk. Apparently, it was some sort of flotation device used by their navy. Without proper high-visibility clothing available, he had been forced to make do with what was available.

"Yes, Colonel. I scouted the enemy positions and decided that we could fight them, so I ordered for one fireteam to lay down covering fire while the other two made runs down the flank. We wiped out all eleven members of the enemy squad."

Carwell made another notation. "That was the right decision to make. I'm pleased to say that your assault was executed well. The elimination of the two sentries was...unorthodox, but it worked. Sae and her people showed good accuracy and fire discipline, and the two maneuver elements moved systematically, but also with speed."

"Thank you," replied Suki.

"That said, I hope you understand that this was an easy scenario. You had the numbers, the element of surprise, and the firepower. You also had the opportunity to commence the assault from a concealed position relatively close to the objective. In the future, you may not have all of these factors on your side.

"Take, for example, your decision to hold Sae's team in a stationary position. It's a perfectly valid tactic, but _only_ for a situation such as this. If you were making the run over a further distance, you'd soon outstrip their capability to cover your advance, and that would leave you exposed. Remember what I said?"

"Yes, Colonel." Suki thought for a second, digging into her memory to recall Carwell's lessons and diagrams. "If we're forced to make a rush over a long stretch, the advancing teams must keep alternating roles between firing and maneuvering. When one team moves towards a covered position, the others fire in support until they get there. Then that team returns the favor, allowing the squad to keep pushing forward under a protective curtain of lead."

"It's what's called bounding overwatch. That's the name of the game." Carwell chuckled, then shoved his clipboard under one arm and peeked at his wristwatch. "All in all, a good job. Report to Shen Town. I'll be holding a full debriefing in a couple of hours, once the other squads have had their turn."

* * *

 _Shrine Hill_

 _1832 hours_

Meditation was easy up here, in the garden outside Kyoshi's shrine. At his request, Aang's friends remained behind in Keum Village. There was nobody around to bother him, no prying eyes or muttered conversations as unnecessary distractions. At the edge of flickering circle set by the shrine's blazing torchlight, he sat alone. All that surrounded him was engulfed by the gathering darkness.

Aang's breathing began to slow down. Far below, the gentle rush of the waves against the sandy shore provided a constant swell of soothing sound, helping him center himself. His mind was clear, and his spirit was settled. Any moment now...

A new voice spoke in the darkness, low and imperative, but definitely feminine. _"Avatar Aang."_

He opened his eyes. The glowing blue apparition of a towering, broad-shouldered woman sat across him. On her head was an ornate headdress, and her face was covered with pale war paint. Even in lotus position she was far taller than Aang was, and he had to crane his neck to look her in the eye.

"Avatar Kyoshi, I am honored," greeted Aang. "I've come to ask your advice."

 _"In that, I am completely at your disposal. How can I be of assistance?"_

"What do you know about the Lost Legion?

 _"Ah, yes."_ Kyoshi nodded approvingly. _"Li Han. I always enjoyed talking with her. She was a far better source of wisdom than Kuruk, my immediate predecessor."_ Even after being dead for almost two hundred years, Aang could still sense the distaste in her tone.

 _"In my day, the Earth Kingdom was in a state of crisis. Scores of bandit groups roamed the countryside and the seas with near-impunity, pillaging and stripping what they pleased. They were a curse upon the land and a curse upon social order. The state's sages, the men entrusted by the crown to govern and protect the common folk, were unable to put a stop to them. At best, they were weak and vacillating, uninterested by their subjects' plight. At worst, they were tyrants and opportunists, a greater blight than the criminals themselves._

 _"It took me many years of my life to bring the problem to heel, and I envied Li Han all the while. After all, she controlled an entire army, while I was lucky if I had one friend to fight by my side. And then I learned her story, and that envy soon disappeared."_

"What changed your mind?" asked Aang.

 _"Even for all the unfortunate aspects of the time I lived in, there still existed the rule of law. A system of government poorly enforced is nevertheless better than none at all. There was still a king in Ba Sing Se, recognized as the legitimate leader by all. The fields were still fertile, and most understood that obeying the law was for everyone's benefit. As long as you stayed close enough to the capital, within the protection of the Earth Army, you could live in relative peace._

 _"The Earth continent of Li Han's time had none of those advantages. It was in complete chaos. The blade and the rock held sway over all, and the only law was strength. As is natural in such a state of affairs, factions arose to vie for the leaderless land, bloodthirsty thugs who knew nothing except death and destruction._

 _"Remember this, Aang."_ Kyoshi fixed him with her stern eyes. _"There are few more dangerous than those who believe as if power is owed to them. Those who, more than anything, crave dominion over their fellow man. Even the bandits I faced, brazen as they were, held no such pretensions._

 _"But the warlords who led each faction did. All were firmly convinced of their birthright to control all that surrounded them. They and their supporters fought not to bring order and peace, but for personal gain. And that is the situation Li Han found herself in._

 _"Of the army that helped her restore sanity, I am less informed about. I do know that they suddenly appeared at Laghima Island when she was around twenty years of age, bringing with them superior weaponry and an understanding of the art of warfare that far exceeded any contemporary knowledge. In the field, they were almost unstoppable. They possessed discipline, allowing them to remain steadfast even against benders, and their with their martial skill, they simply tore through their enemy, who were not nearly so well-drilled as they were."_

"So the Lost Legion was a force for good?"

 _"Definitely. With Li Han's guidance, they launched a campaign against the warlords. It took two bloody years of fighting, but they eventually brought each faction to heel. When the wars were over, Zhelan of Ba Sing Se was installed as the first Earth King, one of the Avatar's only local allies during the conflict and a man reputed across the continent for his judiciousness._

 _"The soldiers of Rome were given one final task, to train and equip the fledgling Earth Army up to standard so that the new nation could protect itself in its nascent years. When that was finished, they sailed with Li Han back west to Laghima Island, and the men were never seen in this world again."_

"But it's happened again, Kyoshi." Aang said. "There's a new Lost Legion, and they're armed with something more dangerous than just swords and shields. They can kill from miles away, and call down huge explosions from the sky, and destroy cities. Their leader says that he and his men fought in a war in their world that killed seventy million people, and that was in just six years of fighting!"

 _"I suspected as much. In fact, I may already have borne witness to their power firsthand."_

"But...how?"

 _"I died here."_ Kyoshi pointed towards the shrine. _"I'm not sure exactly how long ago it happened. Time is a strange entity in the Spirit World. I was very old then, and caught a bad sickness at the dawn of spring. This building used to be the village temple, and the people brought me in to try and heal me. It was too late. My time was long overdue, anyway._

 _"My spirit—mine own, not the one we share as the Avatar—is not drawn very often to the world of the living, but when it is, I tend to find myself here. There came a day, not very long ago, where I had a vision. I saw myself standing here on a snowy winter's day, and somehow, I instinctively understood that the people of this island were in grave danger. But all I could do was watch._

 _"There were three iron ships down in the bay, all bearing the flag of the Fire Nation. They began to unload troops in their hundreds, cavalry and infantry alike. They began to move towards the pass in the valley, and I knew that for all the skill of my warriors, they would be unable to stop so many. The enemy would flood into the island's interior and wreak suffering and destruction upon all who called this place home._

 _"Then the very thunder of the heavens crashed down upon the invaders, and they began to fall in droves. An invisible force seemed to tear through their ranks, and they were powerless to defend themselves. Some tried to firebend towards their unseen adversaries, but they were cut down all the same._

 _"Four winged shapes dove from the sky, rumbling and roaring, and set upon the enemy ships. Their assailment didn't even last a minute, and suddenly they had disappeared back into the clouds. Two of the iron ships exploded, and the third was split straight in half. After that, I saw no more of the battle, but I felt as if I could rest easy, that my people would be safe."_

"That's Colonel Bedford's men, all right. That battle happened three months ago. He was here because he wanted to get Kyoshi Island to be their allies, but the Fire Nation tried to attack. He gathered his men, rallied the warriors, and fought them off with the weapons they brought along."

 _"The vision was true, then?"_ Kyoshi's eyebrows shot upwards. _"I was half-convinced that it was some trick of the Spirit World, a bizarre dream of sorts. Stranger things happen in this realm every day."_

"Nope. What you saw was completely true. The Lost Legion's back, and they call themselves the 'Allied Expeditionary Unit'."

 _"Please, Aang. When you see this Colonel again, please tell him that Avatar Kyoshi gives him many thanks. We are in great debt to him for the service he rendered this island."_

"Bedford's the reason I came up here," replied Aang. "He's just come up with a plan to solve all my problems, and that's what I'm worried about most."

 _"Explain, please,"_ Kyoshi prompted.

"He told me that he plans to use the Allied Expeditionary Unit's advanced weapons to hit the Fire Nation with several quick, devastating strikes, to overwhelm them with so many critical hits and 'bring the whole state to its knees'. He wants to send in an assassination team to kill the Fire Lord and his heir, then isolate Caldera City and capture it so he can land reinforcements right on the enemy's soil. I didn't really understand his explanation of exactly how he'll do it, but one of my friends says that his proposal makes sense, and he seems really confident that he can pull it off."

 _"Would you rather face the might of the enemy on your own, then?"_

"All I have to do is to nod my head, and Bedford sets his gears in motion. Ozai dies, the Fire Nation stops fighting, and the Comet passes by without anything else bad happening. Doesn't it all seem a bit too easy? There has to be a catch to all this. What if... " Aang stumbled over his words a little, trying to clear his thoughts. "What if they're a greater destructive force than even the Fire Nation?"

 _"Then you must make certain that their force is directed properly, for a good cause. Their arrival means your destiny has changed, Aang. You were once supposed to face the Fire Lord and take his regime down, but perhaps that is no longer the case. You are no less important, but now you are a facilitator, an overseer, as Li Han was._

 _"It is your responsibility to ensure that this Allied Expeditionary Unit does not cross the line, that no matter how powerful or dangerous they and their weapons are, they will not upset the balance of this world any further while attempting to restore it. Can you do that?"_

"I'll try."

For the first time, Kyoshi smiled, a small, reassuring gesture. _"Perhaps this development was for the better. I know how sacred life is to you and your culture."_

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 _"Be honest with yourself, Aang. If you had continued down your previous path and mastered all the elements, and you were face-to-face with Ozai, tell me this: what would you need to do to stop him? There would've been no creative way around the problem, no different angle. And if at that point in time you sought my advice, I would have counseled you to end him, permanently. But now, at least you still can remain true to your duties as both an airbender and the Avatar. Think about that."_

Kyoshi bowed her head politely to him, and her image began to fade. Soon the blue glow was gone altogether, and surrounded in the deep blackness, Aang was alone once more.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I was feeling a bit uninspired over the past few months, so I signed on as a beta reader to get my creativity flowing and to help improve my own writing. It worked, and it helped me crank out my longest chapter so far. If you're wondering, I'm currently doing some spit-and-polish work for pinheadh78 (pinhead on Ao3) and his fic _Pearl in WWII_ , available on both FFN and AO3. I highly recommend it if you like _Steven Universe_ , kickass fight scenes, and/or WWII history. **


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